


The Diamond of Ahm Shere

by missbecky



Category: Mummy Returns (2001), The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Graphic Violence, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago, Jonathan was entrusted with the diamond of Ahm Shere. Now it has been stolen, and the consequences are dreadful. Jonathan and the O'Connells must race to prevent an old evil from arising, and a new one from claiming an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Diamond of Ahm Shere

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the events of [The Fourth Side of the Pyramid](http://archiveofourown.org/works/513074). It was originally written and posted to ff.net in 2001, using their chapter system. Because some of the chapter breaks didn't translate well to regular scene breaks, I've kept the chapter titles intact in the story, but am posting it here as one single chapter.

Chapter 1  
The Diamond is Stolen

 

Hamunaptra  
1933

The dirigible rose into the night sky, and the two men stared at it until it was no longer visible. They wore tattered red robes and sat sullenly under the watchful eye of their captors; they had surrendered their arms reluctantly and awaited word of their fate in silent fear. 

"Who was that?" asked one man, barely moving his lips. The words of his speech scarcely registered on the night air.

"I don't know," said his companion. "But it is not O'Connell. I saw him in the museum."

"The brother?"

"Perhaps."

"Allies of the Med-jai. They are strong enemies."

"Yes." The second man looked about the dig site, sparing his guards only a cursory glance. He had very dark eyes and a stern mustache. "But it is said that the strongest will fall the furthest, and the earth will tremble with the impact." He let his gaze linger for a moment on the leader of the Med-jai, and his lip curled. "You will see. They will all see."

The first man said nothing to this. Indeed, no words were needed.

****

For three years, Jonathan kept his secret well. He hid the diamond of Ahm Shere in a room in the basement level of the house, in what was the old servants' quarters. He kept the room locked at all times and carried the key on a ring with his housekeys. 

Most days he completely forgot about it.

Then one day his eye would fall on the key and he would truly see it. Or the fickle English sun would reflect off a distant glass window in a certain way. He would remember then, and always at these times he would go very still, his hands falling to his sides, an enigmatic smile crossing his face. Many people asked about that smile, but none of them ever received an answer.

So the months passed.

Evelyn became head of the British Museum. Alex learned Arabic and hieratic and rugby. Rick – well, Rick managed to stay very busy doing nothing all day.

And Jonathan? Very little changed. Why should it? He was popular in London society, considered something of an expert on Ancient Egypt, and always good for a story or two. He never lacked for invitations, and he spent most evenings out. The cabbies knew him on sight, they were so accustomed to his drunken, late-night patronage. 

Sometimes, however, he was forced to turn these invitations down. At regular intervals he returned to Egypt, always going alone, for Evy could not take time away from the museum. Alex wanted to go, but Evy would not let him miss any school. Rick showed vague interest in the trips, but always came up with a last-minute excuse not to go, and eventually Jonathan stopped asking. 

Occasionally he made the journey for business purposes on Evy's request, doing something or acquiring something for the museum, but mostly he went for himself. Alone. 

He had a flat there, a place to stay that was all his own. He walked the streets of Cairo and studied in the dusty library that had once been Evy's domain. He caught up with old friends and made new ones.

He went into the desert and visited his friends there. He was the first one to see the semi-permanent home of the Med-jai, and to spend time among them. It was Jonathan who came back from one trip with the casually dropped news that not only was Ardeth Bay married for quite some time, he had children of his own – twins, a boy and a girl. Given this new knowledge, it was suddenly not so surprising that the Med-jai chieftain had helped them fight so hard for Alex.

"Well, who would have thought?" Rick mused, obviously pleased.

"We never bothered to ask," Jonathan said, a bit stiffly.

He felt a strange kinship with the Med-jai these days. He identified with them. They guarded Hamunaptra and Ahm Shere, and he guarded the diamond. They protected mankind from evil, and so did he. Theirs was a thankless task, and so was his. 

In his more honest moments, he admitted to an envy of O'Connell. Rick was a Med-jai. He was not. 

****

In the spring of 1936, three years after Ahm Shere, Alex turned eleven and Jonathan was invited to a party in Oxford. He packed a bag for an overnight stay and took a bus. There was an accident in Headington, and he ended up arriving over two hours late; by then the party was in full swing.

His hostess showed him to his room, where he changed into a nicer suit and unpacked his bag. He wandered downstairs, gratefully accepted the glass of whiskey thrust into his hand by a passing waiter, and joined the party.

****

Some time later – he really had no idea when – a stranger joined him on the settee where he sat. The man had dark hair and a stern mustache, and he offered Jonathan a full glass. "To your health."

Jonathan took the glass and raised it. "I'll drink to that." He knocked back half the whiskey in one long swallow.

"My name is Khalid Hassan," said the man. His accent was strange, one Jonathan could not place. "And you are Jonathan Carnahan."

Jonathan nodded. "At your service." He squinted at the man. "How did you know that?"

Khalid Hassan smiled thinly. "I am planning a trip to Egypt. I ask everyone, what can you tell me about that land. They all say, I know nothing; the one you should talk to is Jonathan Carnahan."

"Well!" Jonathan grinned, absurdly pleased. It was a nice change to have a good reputation, for once.

"So," Khalid Hassan said, "what can you tell me about Egypt?"

He opened his mouth to ask why the man was making such a journey, when Khalid stood. "Wait. Please excuse my manners. First let me get you a new drink." He plucked the half-full glass from Jonathan's hand and moved over to the bar.

"I'll just wait here!" Jonathan felt his smile widen. Oh yes, it was nice to be sought after.

****

Khalid Hassan, as it turned out, was going to Egypt to find his family. His father was English and his mother was Egyptian. "Like yourself, I understand." The mother had recently died, and Khalid wished to travel to her home and meet her people.

But he was worried, Khalid said, about some of the things he had heard about Egypt. Stories about mummy's curses and such horrors. Were they true?

Jonathan, well in his cups by now, sobered slightly. "No," he said gravely. "Not true at all."

Khalid Hassan visibly relaxed. "I didn't think so. I thought it was just my mother telling stories. I knew there was no such thing as cursed mummies or golden books or Med-jai."

"Oh," Jonathan said, waving a hand at his new friend. "The Med-jai are real."

Khalid's eyes widened. "They are?"

"Sure! I know some of them myself." 

"But— I've heard they are fierce warriors who would kill a man for looking upon them."

"No, no." Jonathan laughed and tossed off the rest of his drink. "They're not so bad once you get to know them."

"Rather like everyone else, I suppose," Khalid murmured thoughtfully.

"That's right," he said, liking the analogy. He looked at the table beside the settee, seeking a place to put his tumbler, but the tabletop was already crowded with empty glasses. For a moment he stared at these, boggled by the sight. Were they all his?

"I'm glad you are here to reassure me," said Khalid Hassan, "but nonetheless I think I will watch my back on the streets of Cairo."

"Yes, you should," Jonathan said, thinking of all the street crime in that city. "But the Med-jai don't live in Cairo. You don't have to worry about them. Only ordinary pickpockets and thieves." He wondered what his new friend would say if he said he had once been a very good pickpocket, and grinned blearily at the response he imagined he would get.

"Then where are they?" asked Khalid. He held a half-empty glass in both hands, much as he had all night. Perhaps some of those empty glasses on the table belonged to him, Jonathan thought, although he could not remember Khalid ever actually finishing a drink.

"Jonathan?"

He started, then remembered a question had been asked. He clapped Khalid on the shoulder and told the man that unless he strayed far to the south, near the cliffs of the Upper Nile, he would be safe from any of the fearsome Med-jai.

His friend grinned at him. "That is good news."

"About those street thieves, though—"

Khalid's smile seemed to settle on his face. "I am familiar with the ways of thieves, my friend. Do not worry about me."

"Ah, well, that's good, that's good." Jonathan stood up, swaying in a wide arc as he gained his feet. "I do believe I've had too much to drink, old chap."

"I'm sorry if I have kept you up," Khalid said solicitously. 

Jonathan glanced around the room. Only a few people were left in the salon, most of them with a glass clutched in one hand, discoursing on some subject to another person who also clung to a tumbler of liquor. He wondered what time it was. The thought of heading upstairs, finding his guest room, falling into the bed and sleeping until noon suddenly seemed very appealing. "Well, bon voyage on your journey," he slurred. "Wish you the best."

"Thank you," said Khalid. "You have been very helpful, Jonathan Carnahan."

"Yes, yes." He turned and headed for the doorway, hoping he remembered which room was his. It would be terribly embarrassing if he were to stumble into the wrong one.

****

The next morning he woke with a pounding headache and the sinking feeling he had done something he should not have.

Which was strange, because all he could remember doing was sitting and talking to someone.

****

When the cab dropped him off at the house, it was nearly three in the afternoon. He tried the front door, sighed theatrically on finding it locked, and beat on the door for a moment.

No one answered his summons, of course.

"For heaven's sake." He let his bag thump to the pavement and dug into his pocket for his keys, wondering what they would do if he decided one day not to come home at all. How long before any of them missed him?

He put the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door. Alex was in the foyer, obviously having come at hearing the knocking, and Jonathan felt a wave of affection for his nephew. At least somebody cared. He bent down to retrieve his overnight bag and that was when he saw it.

The key was on a different ring.

"Hi, Uncle Jon! We were wondering if you were ever going to come home."

He was rooted to the spot, frozen with horror. The key, the one he always kept on the ring with his housekey, was now on the ring with his car key. It had moved.

"Uncle Jon?"

_Can you do that? If you cannot, tell me now, and we will keep it with us._

_I can do that._

"Oh, no." He seized the keyring and held it up, as though the key might suddenly materialize in its proper place if he only he shook it hard enough.

"What is it, Uncle Jon?" Alex stood before him now, sounding rather alarmed.

Jonathan looked at him, an eleven-year old boy who already knew more about the evils in the world than did most grown men. "Oh, no. This can't be happening."

He ran past Alex and into the house. From somewhere within he heard Rick talking, but he did not listen to the words. He ran for the back stairwell, the one leading downstairs. He ran down the steps so fast he almost tripped and tumbled to the floor.

"Uncle Jon! What's wrong?"

He ignored Alex, as he ignored everything else, even his own safety. Nothing else mattered.

Halfway down the hall, he saw it. The door that had always been firmly shut was now standing wide open.

"No!" He sprinted the rest of the way, his heart beating wildly in terror. 

The small servant's bedroom had been ransacked. And the diamond, the diamond he was supposed to guard with his life, was gone. Jonathan fell to his knees amid the destruction. "No," he whispered.

Alex touched his shoulder. "What's wrong, Uncle Jon?"

"It's gone," he whispered. "Gone. They took it."

"Took what?" asked Alex.

"The diamond," Jonathan said dully. "They took the diamond of Ahm Shere."

****

Rick O'Connell did not know what to say. They sat in the kitchen, at the table where they ate most of their meals. Evy felt the large dining room was too formal, and Rick was inclined to agree, so the kitchen was the one place where they came together as a family.

He stared at his brother-in-law and felt a noose slide about his neck. He was being dragged forward, pulled against his will into something he did not want, and he had the terrible feeling that nothing he did would matter. Whether he wanted this or not, he was about to be swept up by events beyond his control.

He didn't know where to begin. He was stunned to learn of the secret Jonathan had kept from them all this time, and yet not a little proud of the restraint shown by his normally tactless relative. But none of that mattered now, did it?

And he was alarmed, too, and not a little angry. The diamond of Ahm Shere! Jonathan should have guarded it better, he should have kept a closer watch. Something that serious shouldn't be locked away and forgotten about. Obviously the thieves had stolen Jonathan's keys from the guest room at the party, used them to enter the house and search, then returned the keys. He was furious to think of strangers prowling around his house at night. Where had they looked? Had they watched him and Evy sleep? Had they stood over Alex's bed?

How close had his family been to death last night?

"We thought you'd sold the diamond," Evy said. "It's what you told us."

"Well, I lied," Jonathan said miserably. "It's what I always do when I'm not losing important diamonds."

"But we don't know that it contains any powers," Alex said, trying to be helpful.

"Someone sure thinks it does, though," Rick said.

"We should assume it does," Evy agreed. "Until we can prove otherwise."

"And how are we going to prove that?" Jonathan asked. "Without the diamond, we can't prove anything."

"Maybe they only wanted it to sell it," Alex offered hopefully. He was clearly proud to have been included in this adult conversation, and determined to be useful.

"Who are they?" Rick mused.

At the same time, Evy asked, "What are you going to do next, Jonathan?"

"I have to tell--" Jonathan broke off, and sudden horror widened his eyes. He dropped his head into his hands, groaning loudly.

Not liking this one bit, Rick leaned in. "What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"The man," Jonathan moaned into his hands. "The man at the party. He was asking me--" He took a deep breath and lifted his head. He swallowed hard. "He was asking me about Egypt. About the Med-jai."

Rick looked at Evy. That feeling of helplessness, of being dragged down by a cold undertow, had at last seized him completely. There was no turning back now.

"Well," he said, trying not to sound as though he was forcing the words out, "I guess we're going to Egypt."

********

Chapter 2  
"This is all my fault"

 

Despite the circumstances of the trip, Alex was excited. For three years he had wanted to go back to Egypt, and now he was finally getting his chance.

He sat in the window seat of the plane, looking down eagerly. His mum was asleep beside him. Alex glanced at her and shook his head; he failed to understand how anyone could sleep through something as fun as a plane ride.

Uncle Jon was in the row ahead of him. He could see the way his uncle kept glancing nervously out the window, and he felt sorry for him. Uncle Jon was afraid of what they would find when they got to Cairo, and afraid of what Ardeth Bay would say when he learned the diamond had been stolen. Alex, who had only known the fierce Med-jai for an hour, privately thought his uncle should be more afraid of the latter, but he kept his opinions to himself.

His dad sat beside Uncle Jon. They had to lift their voices to be heard over the engines of the plane, and Alex found he could hear them, if he leaned in just a little bit.

"We'll ask around when we get to the airport. Maybe someone will remember this guy coming through."

"Right," Uncle Jon said. "That's a good idea. And what will we do when we find him? Stick a gun in his face and demand the diamond back?" He sounded angry, an emotion which was unusual for him.

"Sounds good to me," Alex heard his dad say.

"Rick, would you be serious?"

"I'm always serious. It's why I don't get drunk and tell total strangers things I shouldn't."

Uncle Jon winced, and Alex winced for him, too. That was a mean thing to say.

"Fine," his uncle said. "You do that. I'm going to head out to Ahm Shere and find Ardeth. He needs to know about this."

"Agreed," his dad said. "We'll ride out to join you after we find out about this thief of yours."

"Oh, God," Uncle Jon groaned. "He's going to kill me."

"You might be right," his dad said, and Alex sat back in his seat. He realized that his uncle was indeed afraid of the Med-jai, and was not at all pleased to learn he was right.

****

It was mid-morning when they arrived in Cairo. Jonathan waited impatiently to get through Customs, then headed out into the streets of the city. He had a few things to do before he went into the desert.

An hour later he was back where it had all begun: Magic Carpet Airways. It was all he could do to keep from running for the doors to the airfield. The need for haste clamored in his skull, urging him to move faster, always faster.

They had lost two days planning and making the trip. First Alex's school had to be informed, and Evy had to arrange things at the museum. Tickets had to be bought, lost passports had to be found, luggage had to be packed. Ready to pull his hair out with frustration, Jonathan had spent most of those two days pacing the foyer of the house, wishing he could run out the door and leave them all behind.

He flung open the airfield doors and there was Izzy, looking virtually unchanged. The pilot whirled around and gaped at him, then glowered in annoyance. "You again."

"Yes, it's me again!" Jonathan crowed. He held out a bundle of bills. "Where's the dirigible?"

Izzy snatched the money and flapped a hand at him. "Dirigibles are for the history books," he scoffed. "I got an airplane again." He pocketed the money. "Let me guess. You want to go back out into the desert."

Jonathan hefted the pack on his back. "Very perceptive of you. Now let's get going."

"Now wait a minute," Izzy protested. "You can't just walk in here and demand that I fly you wherever the hell you want to go. It doesn't work like that."

The pilot's attitude was the last straw, the final delay in a series of frustrations. Incensed, Jonathan threw up his arms. "Why are you people so bloody stupid?" he shouted to the sky. "What is it with you?"

Izzy gave him a look most people reserved for the elderly and insane. "What are you talking about?"

"We're going to Ahm Shere," Jonathan shouted, "and we're going now!" He reached under his jacket and pulled the pistol he had "borrowed" from his brother-in-law. 

Immediately Izzy's hands shot up. "Whoa! Okay! All right. Just calm down. We'll go, we'll go." His eyes narrowed. "What's gotten into you?"

"We can talk about it on the way," Jonathan snapped. 

"Whatever you say." Izzy shook his head, as though to say he thought Jonathan was crazy, and began walking across the airfield.

Jonathan shoved the gun back in his belt, leaving his jacket open. There was no reason to hide it now. He only prayed he wouldn't have to use it.

****

"Dammit."

Evy frowned at him. They were in Jonathan's flat, which was a dusty mess. "What is it?"

"Jonathan. I think he took one of my guns."

"Mum? Dad?" Alex stood at one end of the living room, his hands clasped before him. Only eleven, he was already nearly her height; he would be as tall as Rick in a few years. "I think it's time I learned how to fire a gun, don't you?"

A week ago Evy would have put a halt to anything involving her son and guns without hesitation. Now she just looked helplessly at Rick.

He knew it, too. "When all this is over, Alex. Not just yet."

****

He was the only passenger, and Izzy let him sit in the co-pilot's seat, albeit with some reluctance. The pilot was put out that Jonathan would not tell him why this trip was so urgent. "It's not your boy again, is it?"

"Alex is my nephew, not my son," he said without taking his eyes from the sands below. They could go so much faster in the airplane, and they were higher, too. He found himself wondering what might have happened if Izzy had owned the plane three years ago. How much of the horror might have been averted, if they had been able to catch up with Imhotep before reaching Ahm Shere?

"It's all the same difference to me," Izzy said cheerfully. He began humming tunelessly under his breath.

Jonathan said nothing to this. He was too busy planning what he was going to tell the Med-jai.

There was no excuse for it, of course. He had been entrusted with the diamond, and he had promised to guard it, to do whatever was necessary to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. 

_You must be prepared for anything, and be ready to do what you must to preserve what has been entrusted to you._

And he had agreed. He had sat there and looked Ardeth in the eye and sworn that he would do it. 

_Well, he should have known better than to believe me. It's his own fault, really,_ a voice in his head tried to say. 

This did not make him feel better.

"Ah, there's not any trouble out there, that you're aware of, is there?" Izzy asked.

There was an odd note to the pilot's voice, and Jonathan snapped out of his reverie. "What?" He leaned forward, peering through the windshield of the plane, staring down at the desert. 

The Nile was below them, and directly ahead were the remains of the place the Med-jai had called home. The walls of the cliffs were fire-blackened, and the sand was scorched. Nothing that he could see was intact, and the people of the camp ran about in fright as the plane buzzed overhead.

Jonathan looked up at Izzy and saw his own shock mirrored on the pilot's face. "What the hell happened down there?" Izzy demanded.

"Set it down!" Jonathan cried. Already the plane was moving past the camp, and he could not see it anymore.

He felt sick inside. He remembered the way Khalid Hassan had pressed drinks into his hand, plying him with alcohol and questions. He thought of his keys, laying on the nightstand beside the bed in his guestroom. He thought of strange men sneaking through his house, checking every room until they found the one containing his treasure, his secret. 

_My fault_ , he thought despairingly. _I did this._

Izzy had to land half a mile out from the camp, and Jonathan almost broke his neck in his haste to leave the plane. His foot hooked on one of the steps and with a loud cry, he fell onto the sand, arms flailing, landing heavily on his hands and knees. Hot pain flared in his right ankle, and he cursed as he staggered to his feet. "Bloody hell!"

"Mind the steps," Izzy said, from the top of the stairs.

Jonathan gave the pilot a hateful glare, then began marching across the sand. His ankle did not want to bear his weight, but he stubbornly pushed on, heading for the place he had last visited only six months ago. 

Men were coming at him from the camp, rifles held before them. They shouted to each other, and Jonathan searched frantically through his memory for the greeting he had been taught, the salaam of peace. 

"Watch out, Carnahan!" Izzy called.

Jonathan stood still and let the Med-jai approach. They recognized him, as he knew they would, and they waved him forward. The men had the slightly dazed expressions of those who have just witnessed something that ought to have been impossible, something that had fundamentally altered their perception of reality. Blood and smoke stained their skin and clothing, and two of them were obviously wounded.

"What happened?" Jonathan asked, limping toward the camp. "Who did this?"

More men were walking out from the camp to see who had come in the airplane, and Jonathan's shoulders slumped with relief when he saw Ardeth Bay. He forced himself to walk faster, despite his sprained ankle. 

"Jonathan." Like the others, Ardeth was bloodied, although he seemed unhurt; the blood was evidently not his own. He appeared to be in control of things, and Jonathan immediately acceded to the air of authority that surrounded the chieftain. "We feared the worst. Is O'Connell with you?" Behind him, the Med-jai were creeping forward, wanting to see who had arrived at their shattered home.

"Yes," he said. "Back in Cairo. I came alone." He frowned. "Why did you fear the worst?"

"They have the diamond. We saw it."

"Who did this?" Jonathan asked. Guilt would not let him raise his voice over a whisper.

From the growing knot of spectators, a child began to cry. Immediately Ardeth whirled about, his face ashen. "Aarif!" He ran back toward the camp. Among the Med-jai, the child strained at the hands of the woman holding him back, then broke free and began to run.

Ardeth dropped to his knees and gathered his son into his arms, holding the child close. The boy sobbed loudly, clutching his father tight. 

Jonathan watched all this through shocked eyes. 

Slowly he limped forward. The women and children of the Med-jai lived here, as well as in two other camps, these places that were hidden from the rest of the world. While the men guarded Ahm Shere and Hamunaptra, the women lived here, providing a home for their husbands to come back to. Jonathan knew the privilege that came with the offer to enter this place, and he had always taken it very seriously. 

And now he had destroyed them all.

The Med-jai stood back, staring at him as he approached. Children gazed at him through wide eyes, and some of the women were weeping. He could hear the moans of the wounded now, those who were inside the camp, striving to make sense of their pain. The smell of smoke and blood was nauseatingly strong, now that he was closer.

He tried to imagine it and could not. Who would attack a camp full of women and children with intent to kill? Who would do such a thing?

Perhaps he asked the question aloud. He was aware of speaking, but did not know what he said. He looked down and saw, to his horror, that Ardeth was weeping.

"They came at night," the Med-jai said. "One made it to safety, to find us. We rode as fast as we could, but we were too late." He bowed his head, laying his cheek on his son's hair. "My wife and my daughter are dead, as are many others. My son hid from them and so was spared, but he saw it all happen, and now he does not speak. You want to know who did this? I want to know _why_ they did it." 

Jonathan staggered backward. His ankle buckled and he dropped gracelessly to the sand. "Oh, dear God."

For a long time after that, he knew nothing.

****

"There's nothing here. We should just head out," Rick said in disgust. "We're never gonna find him this way."

"I don't like this," Evy said fretfully. "We should never have sent Jonathan out there on his own."

"We didn't send him," he pointed out. "He went by himself."

"Alex! Don't wander too far off," Evy called. She wrapped her arms about her chest, cupping her elbows with her hands. "This is all going to go horribly wrong, isn't it?"

Rick looked at her, startled. "What?"

"Who knows what Jonathan's stirred up?" she cried. "We don't know what's waiting for us out there in the desert. We could find ourselves facing Imhotep again, Rick!"

Surprised by this outburst, Rick took her in his arms. "Hey!" he said. "Don't do this to yourself. We don't know what will happen."

He took a step back, unsure how to make things better. He was vaguely aware that the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk was forced to go around them, that Alex had stopped and was watching them curiously, but these things were not important. All that mattered was the unhappiness in Evy's eyes.

"Look," he said. "Whatever it is, whatever's out there, we'll deal with it. Just like we always have. That's all I can tell you." He cupped her cheek, caressing the soft skin with his thumb. "We'll do this, Evy. I promise you."

She gazed up at him, trusting, believing him. "I love you."

It was all he could do not to kiss her right there and then, in front of half of Cairo. He said, "I know. I love you, too. Now let's go find Jonathan."

****

All around him, life went on. The Med-jai began trying to salvage their shattered lives again, ignoring him. 

Ardeth stood up, holding his five-year old son. The boy had his father's black curls and warm brown eyes, but his features were more delicate, like those of his mother. He was named Ardeth, too, but everyone called him Aarif, for that was how his twin sister had said his name when she was first learning to talk, and the name had stuck. 

The girl had been named Khaira, and she had been identical to her brother in looks, but altogether different in temperament. Where Aarif was quiet and naturally somber, she had enthusiastically embraced life, running everywhere, always talking. She had practiced her English on Jonathan, who remembered the way she had sat uninhibitedly on his lap, gesturing with her hands as she chattered away. She had told Jonathan that her brother would one day lead the Med-jai, and that was why Aarif was so serious.

Ardeth's wife had scolded Khaira for being so impertinent, and Jonathan had hastily assured her that he was not offended. But Ranya, a petite woman with very long black hair, had merely smiled and said that she understood, but Khaira needed to realize that such things were not for boasting. Leadership was a duty, not a privilege. 

She was a strong woman, a true Med-jai. She had welcomed Jonathan into her home and made him feel like an honored guest, while at the same time offering him genuine smiles of friendship. He had always felt comfortable in her presence, and he had enjoyed talking to her, telling her funny stories to make her laugh.

Six months ago he had sat in Ardeth Bay's home and envied the man. Now all that was gone, destroyed in a single night. And it was all his fault.

"Come," Ardeth said. "We must make plans."

"Plans?" He stayed where he was, looking dazedly up at the Med-jai chieftain.

"They were headed for Ahm Shere." Ardeth was impatient. "We must stop them."

A duty. Not a privilege. Even the things that had happened here would not keep Ardeth from doing what he must. Suddenly full of bitter shame, Jonathan scrambled to his feet. "Wait," he said. "There's something I have to tell you."

Ardeth looked at him, then nodded. He set Aarif down and said something in soft Arabic. The boy gazed fearfully at his father, then walked toward the camp. A woman came forth and took him, and all the while Aarif stared back at the only parent he had left.

Jonathan swallowed hard. He had thought it would be difficult to confess to the diamond's theft. He had never dreamed its loss might be the least of his worries. "This." He lifted a hand, then let it fall heavily back to his side. "This is all my fault. I did this."

"How?" Ardeth asked.

"There was a party…a man…he was asking me questions about Egypt. I was drunk…" He could not finish any of his sentences. Tears of guilt and remorse stung his eyes. He kept remembering the way Ardeth had laughed at the way his children fought to show off for their English guest, and how happy the Med-jai leader had been. 

"He seemed… He said… I thought…" He blinked back the tears. "I'm so sorry, Ardeth. I thought-- He asked about Egypt. About the Med-jai. I was drunk. I didn't know. He took the diamond. I didn't know…I didn't know." He could not go on. He braced himself for the blow and simply stood there.

Ardeth did not hit him. But something died in the Med-jai's eyes. In that second the friend Jonathan had known disappeared, and a cold stranger took his place. "We must go to Ahm Shere and stop them before they raise the Creature again." Ardeth turned and walked toward the camp, and what remained of his people.

Jonathan watched him go. He contemplated returning to the plane, flying away from this place. He thought about just walking into the desert, walking until he dropped to the ground and could not get up again.

Once, he had dreamed a dream of golden light and worth. He had wanted so badly to be in that dream, to walk in it, rather than watch it from above. He had sought out his destiny, and he had been entrusted with a secret of immense importance. Lives had rested in his hands.

And he was still responsible for those lives. He could not bring back Khaira and Ranya and the Med-jai who had died in this place. But maybe he could stop any more deaths from occurring. Maybe he could do something to show he was not the worthless man they thought he was. If he ran now, if he gave in to the cowardice that had held him still all his life, he would only be proving that he was not worthy of trust. 

He began hobbling across the sand, toward the camp. After all, he had nowhere else to go.

*******

Chapter 3  
The Leader of the Med-jai

They had to wait at the airfield for Izzy to return, and Rick found himself losing patience with how slowly things were going. He knew Jonathan had not been happy at losing two days before making this trip, and he knew, too, from past experience, that sometimes even a single day mattered. He hoped that would not be the case this time, but the cynical hopelessness that had overtaken him back in London told him that he could count on it. 

He felt bad about the things he had said to Jonathan on the plane ride, but he was used to this kind of guilt. All his life he had been doing it: making sarcastic or cutting remarks, and regretting them later. With Jonathan, he felt doubly sensitive, for not only was the man family, but it was clear that he had been trying to reform. Accepting responsibility for the diamond was a huge step for a man as notoriously carefree as Jonathan Carnahan. Rick did not want to be the one to discourage Jonathan from continuing on this path.

He sat on a wooden chair by the airfield gate, watching as Alex ran about in circles, playing an invented game that seemed to involve a lot of running and ducking. He envied his son's energy under the brutal heat, and wished he were a few years younger; he might have joined in then. But at thirty-eight, he wasn't about to leap up and start running around out there. He preferred to sit here in the shade, right where he was.

Inevitably his thoughts turned to Jonathan. The last time they had been in Cairo, Evy had asked, _Do you think he'll ever grow up?_ And he had said no. It looked now like he had been wrong to say so, and it was a bit sad that he could feel surprised over this. When you had given up on a person and decided they would never make something out of their lives, what did that say about that person? 

What did that say about you?

He squinted up into the sky and sighed. "I just can't be angry with him, you know? He obviously tried real hard."

"Not hard enough." Evidently Evy found it harder to forgive her brother. Then again, she had been putting up with him for a lot longer than Rick had. "He should have told us. We would have kept the diamond safe together. All of us."

"He promised he wouldn't tell," Rick said, looking at her curiously. Was that it? Did it rankle that Jonathan had, for once in his life, kept a secret from his baby sister?

"Well, he should have known he couldn't keep a secret like that. He never has. I don't know what he was thinking when he promised Ardeth he would guard that diamond." She had adopted that tone of voice she always used when nagging Jonathan, or going on about his selfish, hedonistic ways. Rick was so inured to it that he hardly paid it any attention anymore. Even Jonathan never seemed to take offense, only growing more insouciant and breezy in the face of her scolding.

It occurred to him then that maybe Jonathan had simply grown tired of hearing his sister nag him so. Maybe Jonathan, after Ahm Shere, had taken a hard look around him, and not liked what he had seen.

The drone of an airplane's engines split the afternoon, and Rick looked up in relief. He held his hand over his eyes as he squinted into the azure sky. "I just don't think you should be so hard on him," he said, standing up.

He walked out to meet the plane, and Alex went with him. "What happened to the dirigible, Dad?"

"I don't know." He turned aside as the plane taxied forward, shielding his face from the sandstorm that rose from the plane's propellers. 

Behind him, Evy said, "I'm not hard on him. I'm realistic."

He turned toward her. "All I'm saying is, give the man a chance." He turned back to the plane, grinning as his old friend emerged from the cockpit. "Izzy!"

Almost immediately, his smile died. Izzy looked anything but overjoyed to see him. "O'Connell! What did you get yourself mixed up in this time?" The pilot hurried over to him.

Taken aback by the intensity in his friend's voice, Rick waited until Izzy stood in front of him. "What do you mean? What's out there?"

"Where's Jonathan?" Evy demanded.

"I left him there, like he wanted," Izzy said. He shook his head. "But I don't know why. There's not much left."

"Left of what?" Rick said. The rope that had settled about his neck in London tightened another notch.

"Somebody went in and attacked your friends. The Med-jai." Izzy grimaced, then brightened. "Oh, but I did see your friend, the tall one, the one who had the bird."

This was something of a comfort – until Rick remembered how guilty Jonathan had felt about telling a stranger about the Med-jai. _Oh, God. He's going to kill me._

"Izzy! Get this plane ready. We've got to get out there." Ardeth might or might not kill Jonathan, but whoever was out there in the desert clearly had no such scruples about murder. 

"Wait a minute. I just got here! You can't—"

"Now!" Rick shouted, and was gratified to see how quickly the pilot leaped to do his bidding.

****

They gathered in a tent that had been erected in the middle of the camp. A large hole let light in through one side, and the edges of the tear were charred black. Jonathan sat outside the circle, huddled as small as he could make himself. Occasionally one of the men would glance at Jonathan but whenever this happened, that man's eyes would glaze over and he would look away hastily, as though it was a crime to be caught looking.

Maybe it was now, for all he knew, Jonathan thought. The Med-jai talked in Arabic, effectively shutting him out of the discussion. Once he thought he heard his name, and a few times he swore someone said "O'Connell" but he couldn't be certain.

Ardeth did not even acknowledge him. The Med-jai chieftain led his people in the debate and did not once look at Jonathan. He was quiet and calm, without the passionate emotion of some of the other men. When he spoke, the others fell silent, and when a question was asked, nobody answered until Ardeth had done so first. Without being able to speak the language, Jonathan watched and listened to this debate and realized that every single man in this camp would lay down his life for his leader.

It was a sobering thought. He had been deluded enough to feel a sort of kinship with these people, and a tentative amity with them. And now? He had single-handedly destroyed their lives, and torn apart his friend's family. It would make no difference if Ardeth was a common peasant scrabbling for an existence on the fringes of the desert, or the leader of a nation of warriors directly descended from the days of Pharaohs. The guilt was still there, and he could never take back what he had done.

But he had to try. 

"Excuse me." He barely heard his first attempt, and had to clear his throat. He tried again. 

"Excuse me. Would someone tell me what you're talking about?"

Now they all looked at him, and in their eyes he saw the truth: they did not know. Ardeth had not told them. They looked at him with curiosity and annoyance and even hope, but there was no anger there, no hatred. They did not know.

"We are deciding who will go, and who will stay," Ardeth said. "There is help on the way from the other tribes, but we cannot wait for them. Until they arrive, the camp will need to be protected."

He nodded. "Right."

"When the others arrive, most will follow us into Ahm Shere. We will need all the help we can get."

"Rick and Evy are on their way," Jonathan offered. "Izzy went back for them. They should be here by nightfall."

Ardeth nodded and said something in Arabic. This time the word "O'Connell" was clear as day. "You should know," Ardeth said to Jonathan, "that they have more than just the diamond. They also have the Book of Amun-Ra."

"What?" He jerked in surprise. "But how?"

Ardeth's eyes narrowed in anger, and Jonathan wanted to bite his tongue. Of course the book had been stolen. The camp had been attacked at night, and the people had been too busy defending themselves. He saw now that the attack had served two purposes. Not only had the Med-jai been effectively erased as a threat, but the Book of Amun-Ra was no longer in their hands.

"I—I'm sorry." He glanced about the circle. "Maybe they know the man who stole the diamond. Did anybody recognize their attackers?"

"They are Imhotep's men," Ardeth said coldly. "Those who survived the events of three years ago. The men we took prisoner at Hamunaptra were released, on my command. I did not wish for any more bloodshed. Now I have lived to regret that decision."

Jonathan closed his eyes. Now he understood why Ardeth had not told the Med-jai about his role in all of this. Ardeth blamed himself. 

Guilt twisted sickly in his stomach, and he winced and opened his eyes. "His name was Khalid Hassan, if that means anything to you."

"We must finish laying our plans," Ardeth said. Then he began speaking to his men again in Arabic, his sentences short and clipped, as though he was giving orders.

Jonathan hunched his shoulders about his ears and waited for them to finish.

****

One night, shortly after they had been married, his wife had taken his face in her hands and gazed at him seriously. _You are a mystery, Ardeth Bay. You have the ability to look far into the future, to see what awaits the Med-jai and to plan accordingly. Yet you also have the ability to look deeply and truly within yourself and use what you see._

He was enchanted by her, and still a little awed that she had consented to become his wife. _Why is that a mystery?_

She had smiled. _Because most men cannot do either of those things. It is a rare man who can do both._

He wished now he had tried to explain to her that there was no mystery. It was very simple. He was the leader of the Med-jai. It was his duty to look ahead, to anticipate what would befall his people in the months and years to come.

It was Ardeth who, two years after Hamunaptra fell, first realized that the Year of the Scorpion was approaching, and understood what that meant. He had foreseen the fight in their future, and calmly begun the process of turning the Med-jai into an army ready for battle. When the first messages had arrived from Cairo about the planned dig at Hamunaptra, he had not been surprised; he had only wondered why it had taken them so long.

And despite all his planning, the events of Ahm Shere had almost killed them all. The woman had kept such a close watch on the Books that he had never been able to steal them. He could not have guessed the O'Connells would find the Bracelet of Anubis and take it with them to London. His journey to England had been an act of desperation, one last attempt to keep it all from falling apart. Rick had not known his despair upon finding the Bracelet on Alex's wrist, and Ardeth prayed the man never would.

Not even the best of men could plan for everything.

And introspection was not always a good thing, he might have told Ranya, had she lived. The ability to look truly at himself often meant he was his own harshest critic. When others would have forgiven his sins, he freely accepted the blame that ought to be levelled at him.

As it should be now. The men they had captured at Hamunaptra three years ago had been angry and hostile; most had made threats of one kind or another. But Ardeth had thought of them as subordinates, men who, lacking leadership, would drift aimlessly away, never amounting to anything.

He had fatally underestimated them. Clearly one of them had emerged as a new leader, rallying the others to his banner. More than likely there were even new recruits, new members of the cult eager to prove themselves.

And now the Med-jai had paid the ultimate price for his mistake. Ranya and Khaira were gone, and Aarif was badly traumatized by what had happened. Many of his people were dead and the grieving would last for years.

Death was a part of life, and more so for a Med-jai. He had always accepted that there would be casualties in the war against evil, a terrible but inescapable fact of their lives. Death, no matter how horrible, could be understood.

Failure could not. Twice now during his tenure as leader, the Creature had been raised. Now the Book of Amun-Ra was in the hands of the enemy, and the diamond of Ahm Shere was theirs, too. When they got to Ahm Shere, they would seek the Book of the Dead and use it to raise Imhotep for a third time.

The ability to see truly was both a blessing and a curse, and Ardeth admitted reluctantly that things might be even worse than he had let on to his men. It was possible that the diamond alone could raise the Creature. And if it was possible, then the chances of stopping the enemy were virtually non-existent. For they needed time to reach Ahm Shere, time they might not have.

The meeting broke up, and the men returned to their duties, doing what they could to help. Ardeth lingered, knowing that Jonathan Carnahan would want to talk to him.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Jonathan asked hoarsely.

Ardeth did not look at him. "Tell them what?"

"That this is all my fault."

He was struck suddenly by an old memory, one he had not thought of in years. After Imhotep had taken Evelyn the first time, and O'Connell had driven them to the Royal Air Corps airfield and that madman Winston Havlock. Jonathan had looked squarely at him and apologized. "This is all our fault. If we had known--"

"You would have done it anyway," Ardeth had said. "Man cannot change what he is."

"And what is that?" O'Connell had asked.

"A seeker," he had said.

Now he looked at Jonathan. "The blame is not yours. It is mine, as it should be."

"But I--"

"They meant to take the diamond," he said harshly. "Be glad they got it in the manner they did. They would not have hesitated to kill you, had it been necessary."

Jonathan swallowed hard. "But I told them how to find the Med-jai."

"I let them live three years ago," Ardeth said. "It was my mistake." He stared through the hole in the tent, watching two women gather water from the river. "It will not happen again."

He had sworn this, an oath to himself as he had knelt over his dead wife and child. Whoever had done this to his people would not live to do it again.

No one would leave Ahm Shere alive.

**********

Chapter 4  
The Truth is Known

Although Izzy had warned them, Rick was still unprepared for the destruction he saw as the plane flew over the remains of the Med-jai camp. He sat back in his seat, not wanting to look down and see anymore.

"Oh, my God," Evy breathed. She had gone very pale.

Alex stared out the window, mesmerized by the devastation below. He did not ask why someone would do such a thing; already he understood far too well how the world sometimes worked.

Rick was on his feet the moment Izzy set the plane down, gathering his bags and walking toward the door. The sight of the camp had galvanized him into action. He still felt like he was being dragged into something, but he no longer felt unwilling. He had seen, and now he wanted to act. He wanted to do something, to react, to hurt back.

"What should I do?" Izzy asked, standing framed in the doorway of the plane.

"Go back to Cairo," Rick said, peering across the sand to the fires burning in the camp. "Thanks for the ride, Izzy."

The pilot shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Maybe one day I'll have a friend who thinks of me as more than a form of transport."

"Maybe," Alex agreed cheerfully, thudding down the stairs.

Izzy's jaw dropped.

Evy touched him on the shoulder as she walked past. "Thank you, Izzy." She moved gracefully down the steps to the sand, with the pilot staring at her the entire way.

Rick, had he not known better, would have been offended.

They walked quickly toward the river and the camp. The sky was turning a dark, velvety blue, and the stars were coming out. Sand that had lain flat and featureless all day took on new life as the wind and twilight gave it new shapes and definition. The desert was beautiful at night, Rick thought absently, and then spared no further thought for it.

Directly ahead, silhouetted by the fires burning within the camp, was a line of horsemen. They sat perfectly still, waiting. One man was before the others, set apart not only by space but by his demeanor. 

"There's Jonathan," Evy breathed, and only then did Rick see his brother-in-law. Jonathan was near the end of the line, his white shirt and jacket making him easily visible against the black robes of the Med-jai.

Ardeth dismounted and came toward them. He appeared unhurt, and Rick felt a weight lift off his shoulders. "My friends. We have waited for you."

There was something vaguely ominous about this pronouncement. "What happened here?" Rick asked.

"We were set upon in the night. The same men who stole the diamond from Jonathan. They took the Book of Amun-Ra and have gone to Ahm Shere." Ardeth spoke with glacial calm, almost the stranger who had ordered Rick out of Hamunaptra thirteen years ago.

 _He said, "my friends,"_ Rick thought, _but he didn't really mean it._ Aloud, he asked, "Why Ahm Shere? I thought it was just a wasteland now."

"Because that is where the Book of the Dead lies," Ardeth said.

"The Book of the Dead!" Alex exclaimed. "But that means they can—"

"Resurrect Imhotep," finished Evy.

"We must leave tonight," Ardeth said. "Horses have been readied for you."

"Wait," Rick said. This was all happening too fast; he was keenly aware of his ignorance of the situation. He wanted to help, but everything important had already occurred, or was happening without his volition. He had no say in any of it, and he was unaccustomed to this feeling, this unease. 

"There is no time," Ardeth said coldly. "We must leave now." He turned and began walking away.

"What about Alex?" Evy called.

"Mum! I'm going with you!" Alex protested.

Ardeth stopped, but did not turn around. "He can stay here."

"I'm coming with you!" Alex cried. "You can't just leave me behind."

Rick thought of his son asking to learn how to fire a gun and looked at Evy. "Oh, yes, we can," he said.

"But it's not fair!" Alex said angrily.

"Alex." Ardeth turned around and walked over to the boy. He said something in Arabic.

Alex's eyes widened. He gulped and nodded, then made a response.

Rick, who knew nothing of the language, looked from his son to his wife. "What are they saying?"

Evy shook her head. "I'm not sure."

Whatever they were saying, Alex was clearly feeling better about things. A new confidence suddenly stiffened his spine, and he stood a little taller. "Yes," he said in English.

Ardeth looked at Evy. "He will stay here and watch over my son. Aarif witnessed the attack and he has been badly affected by it. It is my hope that Alex can help him."

"What about your daughter?" Rick asked.

Ardeth hesitated only a moment. "My daughter and my wife are dead," he said.

Rick groaned and wondered what he had done to earn this magic gift of somehow always saying the wrong thing.

It was Evy, of course, who knew the right thing to say. "Oh, Ardeth. I am so sorry." She walked up and hugged the Med-jai, ignoring the way he flinched at her approach. Ardeth stood stiffly in her embrace and made no move to return it, and Evy wisely ignored this, too. 

She stepped back. "We'll help you do whatever it takes to find those men and stop them."

"Thank you," Ardeth said. There was no feeling in his voice. He might have been talking to someone he had just met.

Rick stood back, not knowing what to do. For all his travels and adventures, he did not have much experience with death. Too young to remember his parents' death, he had grown up in the orphanage in Cairo in an atmosphere that was a mixture of religiously-motivated shelter and innocence, and the natural inclination of little boys to seek out fun and excitement. He had done a lot of things and seen even more, but death had remained largely outside his sphere of existence. This relative innocence, he knew, was partially responsible for his reaction at Evy's death, his total helplessness – _What do I do, Evy?_ – his panicked near-breakdown. 

He had only the barest concept of the grief Ardeth must be feeling right now, the pain that came from loss. He had been granted a miracle in Evy's resurrection—

The breath rushed out of his lungs. A miracle. If they could find the Book of the Dead… Was it possible?

He very nearly blurted out something to this effect, then bit down on his tongue. He had said far too much tonight already. Maybe it would be better to say nothing, to keep his thoughts to himself. If he gave Ardeth that hope, only for it to end in tragedy, he would never forgive himself.

The Med-jai chieftain began walking back to the camp, and Rick followed. He peered closely at Jonathan as they passed the horsemen, noting with relief that his brother-in-law looked fine. Uneasy and uncomfortable, but unhurt. Obviously Ardeth had managed to hold his temper and not assault Jonathan for that man's deplorable lapse in watchfulness.

"Wait here," Ardeth said, and kept walking.

Evy touched his arm. "Rick. Something's not right with him."

He lowered his head, speaking softly so his voice would not carry. "Evy, the man's just lost half his family. How would you be?" Then he looked down at his son. "Alex, you behave yourself. Don't make any trouble for these people. You just do what Ardeth asked and be good."

Alex's blue eyes widened in a show of perfect innocence. "I don't make trouble, Dad. Not on purpose, anyway."

Rick sighed. "I know, buddy."

He looked up as Ardeth emerged from one of the tents in the camp. With him was a little boy with long black hair and a fearful expression. The child looked to be five years old, and he clung to his father's robes, walking in jerky, short steps. Rick felt his stomach turn over at the sight, and he felt Evy's hand tighten over his arm.

Ardeth began to speak, and the men on horseback turned the animals so they were now facing their leader. Jonathan did so with less confidence, and the horse uttered a piercing whinny that split the night air.

"He's talking about the danger of what they're going to do," Alex translated, frowning with the effort. "How important it is."

Rick watched, fascinated. He remembered the last time they had come to Cairo, and how Ardeth had left them to speak to the Med-jai, before rejoining them at the airfield. Had a similar scene happened then?

Alex bit his lip. "Now he says that while he is gone, a man named Jamail will stay behind and guard the camp." 

As they watched, Ardeth pulled a knife from his belt. Rick tensed, suddenly having a bad feeling about this.

Ardeth held up the knife, then slashed his left palm. Immediately blood ran from the wound, black in the firelight. Ardeth closed his hand into a fist so the blood wet his fingertips, then dropped to one knee before his son. With his own blood, he drew a symbol on the child's forehead. He began speaking again.

"He says that if he dies, his son will be the next leader of the Med-jai." Alex paused to listen. "Oh! The boy's name is Ardeth, too." He waited, then said, "I didn't get all of it, but I think this was a pretty big moment. If he had done it in the blood from his right hand, his sword-bearing hand, it would have been for real, passing the leadership on for good." He frowned. "At least, I think that's what just happened."

Rick stared at the silent child with the blood on his forehead, and fought the urge to yank at his shirt collar, to grab the invisible noose that was slowly strangling him. The churning uneasiness in his gut made him feel sick. He counted the Med-jai warriors, added in his own guns, and still they were not enough. Battling mummies and mortals was one thing, but how could mere guns fight the phantoms of rage and despair? How did you fight such enemies?

He had the sudden, depressing certainty that whatever happened in the desert of Ahm Shere, not all who went in would be coming out.

****

Jonathan had never been so glad to see anybody in all his life. With relief, he let his horse fall back so he could join his sister and O'Connell. They flanked him, a move that somewhat irritated him, for it smacked of protection and condescension, two things he did not need right now.

But after Ardeth Bay's coldness, he would take O'Connell's condescension any day. "Did you find anything in Cairo?" he asked.

"Nope," Rick said. 

Jonathan sighed, although really, he was not surprised. He had not expected them to find anything. Thousands of men went through Cairo every day, many of them with dark hair and mustaches. There was nothing to suppose anyone would remember Khalid Hassan.

Nevertheless, it was pretty damn disappointing.

"Jonathan," Evy said, her dark eyes full of worry, "did you explain to Ardeth everything that happened?"

He recoiled, insulted. "Of course I did! What do you take me for?"

Now it was his sister's turn to be offended. "Oh, Jonathan, you know I didn't mean it like that…"

He looked away, shutting her out. He knew perfectly well what she took him for: a liar and a thief, a drunken gambler wasting his life, a burden on all those around him. Evy thought it. Rick thought it. The entire world thought it. And it was little wonder. For the first forty years of his life he had indeed been those things.

But all that had changed three years ago, when he had left Hamunaptra with the diamond of Ahm Shere tucked safely in his rucksack. He had vowed to make a fresh start, to become reliable and responsible, to be trustworthy and respected. Except nobody else had seen the change, nobody had known these things.

Well, almost nobody. He clenched his teeth against a groan. Ardeth had known. _And he's lost everything because of me,_ Jonathan thought. _No wonder nobody ever wants to trust me. Look what happens when they do._

"Look," Rick said, cutting into his thoughts. "I just need to know one thing. Are you going to help us out when we get to Ahm Shere?"

Too despondent to get insulted again, Jonathan just nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Rick looked grim. "Because if they raise Imhotep again, we've got big problems."

****

They rode through the night, stopping only to water the horses. For a while the Nile remained on their left, then they left the river behind. Jonathan pondered the mystery of this great river running through such a desolate land. The paradox of water and desert so peacefully co-existing could only happen in a country such as Egypt, he thought. Anywhere else and it just wouldn't work.

Ardeth kept a fast pace, and there were no opportunities for conversation. Jonathan did not mind. He was sunk in his own thoughts, mired in gloom, convinced of his own worthlessness. He had promised Rick he would be useful in Ahm Shere, but who was he to make such promises? He had no idea what to expect when they reached their destination, or what he might do. 

What would it feel like to have self-confidence, he wondered wistfully? What was it like to be Rick O'Connell, strong and brave even when fighting ancient monsters from the Underworld? What was it like to be Evelyn, so courageous and giving that she would risk her own life for those around her? 

He closed his eyes, his body swaying with the horse's gait. Images from his dream rose before him, that hateful dream that had started it all. If he had never had the dream, none of this would ever have happened, he thought angrily. He would never have been compelled to chase Ardeth Bay halfway across the desert, in search of his destiny. 

Once or twice during the years he had wondered if the Med-jai had lied to him, told him a story about the diamond possessing powers just to humor him. But he had never entertained these thoughts for very long -- Ardeth didn't seem capable of such cruelty, and in truth, these thoughts were just too painful. He didn't want to think he was so desperate that someone might have handed him a ready-made tale just to appease him and make him feel better.

And now he knew the truth. The diamond _did_ hold power within it, or at least someone sure believed it did.

_The power of Ahm Shere resides within the stone._

His eyes flew open. "Oh, no."

Nobody heard. Evy was half-asleep in the saddle, and Rick was staring straight ahead, obviously lost in thought. Jonathan hunched his shoulders and clutched the reins helplessly.

Could the stone alone raise Imhotep? Did Khalid Hassan even need the Book of the Dead?

If that were true, they would almost certainly be too late. Jonathan gazed at the backs of the Med-jai warriors who rode ahead of him, men who had ridden from their watch to find their home in ruins, men who followed Ardeth Bay through a respect and loyalty beyond anything Jonathan had ever known.

He thought maybe Ardeth knew about the diamond's powers, knew that they were too late. Ardeth knew, and didn't care. They were riding into a trap, a death sentence, and if any of the Med-jai suspected it, they said not a word. The loyalty that held them at their leader's side also held them silent.

 _It's my fault,_ Jonathan thought. _I did this to him. He's going to kill us all, and it's all my fault._

********

Chapter 5  
The Power of the Diamond

Shortly before dawn, they entered Ahm Shere.

The barren desert bore no resemblance to the lush oasis they had seen three years ago. At first glance, there was nothing to distinguish Ahm Shere from the rest of Egypt -- the wits back home in London said if you had seen one desert, you had seen them all. But after the first fifteen minutes, Evy knew that Ahm Shere was very unique. Most deserts were harsh places, but Ahm Shere was utterly lifeless.

Skeptics would not believe it, but the desert was surprisingly full of life. The sands teemed with creatures that came out in the night, snakes and scorpions and insects that thrived on the heat and the darkness. Even if you could not see them, you could still sense them, and know they were there.

Not so in Ahm Shere. Evy stared down at the sands, aghast. Nothing lived here. Even the air was stagnant, without the faintest of breezes. Her horse laid its hooves down carefully, as though disliking to step on these dead sands.

She wrestled back a shudder. Many men had died in this place.

 _She_ had died in this place.

On the other side of Jonathan, Rick made a face. "Does this feel right to you?"

"It's all wrong," Jonathan said glumly.

Evy said nothing. She could feel the librarian in her wanting to speak, to provide rational excuses for the lack of life in Ahm Shere, but she refused to listen. She was no longer the naïve girl she had been in Cairo, and she knew there were some things in this world that simply weren't meant to be explained.

Ahead, the desert stretched out endlessly. She could see nothing to relieve the flat sands, no signs of anything other than the rolling dunes. She wondered how far it was to the center of the desert, to the temple had once stood in the center of the oasis. Would there be any signs to mark it, anything at all to commemorate their victory over Imhotep and the Scorpion King?

She could not decide if she wanted to see these things or not. Was it better to forget, or to remember?

****

They were on familiar ground now, and Ardeth pushed them to go faster. He was coldly certain that they would not be in time; he was only slightly surprised to find he did not care. Let them raise the Creature. Let them resurrect the Scorpion King. Let the Army of Anubis stalk the earth.

He would not stop them.

Jonathan had innocently given him the name of his enemy. He thought he knew the face, too. Of all the men they had taken prisoner at Hamunaptra three years ago, one stood out in his memory. A tall man, with a sternly cut mustache and flashing dark eyes. A man who did not whimper or beg for his fate. A man who knew the value of patience, and how to bide his time and wait for his day. Khalid Hassan.

Ardeth knew how to wait, too. Three thousand years had taught him and his people much about the art of patience. But today the waiting was over. Today he took the fight to them.

Today, men would die.

****

Rick drank deeply from the canteen, replaced the lid, and let it drop back to its resting position alongside the saddle. It hung from the pommel, snugged against his thigh, where he would be certain to miss it if for some reason the tie came undone and it fell -- to be without water in the desert was the surest way to die in the desert.

They had been in Ahm Shere for an hour now, and the sun was visible in the east, a ball of fire lurking low in the sky like an animal of prey waiting to pounce on the hapless humanity below. Rick thought forlornly of the bandanna he had somehow left behind on Izzy's plane, and wondered what the pilot was doing right now.

And without warning, the day went supernova.

****

Brilliant white light seared the sky, and Jonathan flung up his arm reflexively, ducking his head and shielding his eyes. He heard himself cry out, but the sound was lost in the immense roaring that swept through the morning.

The light died, but the roaring continued. His horse pranced nervously under him and screamed. Jonathan fought to keep his seat and looked around wildly.

Around him, Ahm Shere came to life.

Green shoots sprang from the sand, rocketing upward with astonishing speed. Palm trees raced toward the sky and sent forth delicate leaves. Tremendous ivies curled about tree limbs, and violently colored flowers bloomed in seconds. 

The horses went mad. Men began shouting, and someone fired a gun. Jonathan threw himself forward in the saddle, trying desperately to keep from being thrown. On his right, a tree impaled Rick's horse, and the stallion uttered a piercing scream. Rick was flung to the ground and lay still where he landed. Evy shouted something, and then her voice was lost in the general cacophony of life.

Jonathan's horse reared high as a fern burst from the sand directly under its nose, and he cried out miserably, clinging to its mane, standing almost straight in the stirrups. He had ridden in several fox hunts and was an experienced rider, but he had never been on a horse when the countryside erupted in insanity. It occurred to him that if they gave out trophies for Best Rider During A Natural Disaster, he would be a shoo-in.

His horse landed on all fours again, and he fought to look around him, to see everything. Rick was still on the ground, and Evy was struggling to control her horse. The Med-jai were scattered, some on foot and others still in the saddle. He saw one man in a tree, run through by one of those rapidly growing palms, and he swallowed hard at the sight.

And at the head of their disintegrating group, Ardeth Bay kicked his horse into a gallop and left them behind.

Jonathan gaped after him for a moment, then thudded his heels into the horse's sides. The animal leaped forward, eyes rolling madly, and Jonathan held on for dear life, chasing after his friend.

****

"Rick!" Evy's voice faded in and out.

He blinked, rolled over and groaned. No, that wasn't right. Evy was there. _He_ was the one fading in and out.

"Rick!" He opened his eyes again and she was there, kneeling over him. A long scratch down one cheek oozed blood, and her hair had fallen from its careful knot. Her dark eyes were frantic. "Rick, talk to me."

He stared up at her, her beautiful face framed by dark green foliage. "I think my arm is broken," he said. 

She went white. "Are you sure?"

He sat up with a pained grunt, holding the offending limb close to his body. "Pretty damn sure."

"Oh, Rick." The words sounded very small.

He looked up sharply then, forgetting his own pain. "What is it?"

The jungle around them was perfectly still. No wind stirred the trees, no insects sang in the undergrowth. The blue of the sky seemed very far away.

He stood on his own, ignoring Evy's outstretched hand. Around him the Med-jai stood alertly, holding their weapons out. There was no sign of either Ardeth or Jonathan. The warriors glanced at each other and began to draw in, forming a tight circle.

In the distance, the oasis began to swell. He could not see them, but he heard their approach, and he felt the noose about his neck draw tight, cutting off his air.

"They're coming," Evy breathed.

Rick pulled a gun with his good left hand and pulled back the hammer with his thumb. He placed himself in front of Evy, protecting her with his body. "You'd think I'd get tired of saying this, but we are in serious trouble."

****

"Wait for me!" Jonathan called. He was appalled at how fast Ardeth's horse was running. Tree branches scraped at his hair, wanting to claw him out of the saddle, and he had to duck low to avoid a sudden blow. There were no paths through the undergrowth, and thorns snagged on his boots and in the horse's hide. When it slowed, he kicked it, not daring to let Ardeth out of his sight.

"Ardeth, wait!"

The Med-jai's horse squealed and its head plunged down, a move so sudden that for a startled moment Jonathan thought Ardeth had hauled back on the reins so hard the horse had fallen. Then the stallion turned a complete somersault, throwing its rider, and Jonathan realized the truth; the horse had stepped in a hole and broken its leg.

He pulled his horse to a stop, and the animal whinnied, ears laid back. The instant Jonathan was on the ground, it took off, racing back the way it had come, tail streaming out behind it like a gaily waving banner. Jonathan watched the horse go for a dumbstruck moment, then turned around. "Ardeth!"

The Med-jai chieftain was almost out of sight already, running through the jungle without hesitation. Jonathan glanced down at Ardeth's horse, wincing at the animal's weak struggles to rise, then began running. "Wait for me!"

"There's no time!" Ardeth shouted. "We must hurry!"

He leaped over a dense bush, dodged a palm, ducked a low branch. "What about the others?" he shouted, and Ardeth did not answer.

Around them, the oasis became very still. Nothing moved, no sounds at all pierced the thickness of the morning air.

Ardeth skidded to a halt and drew his sword. He whirled around, eyes blazing. "Something's here," he said grimly.

"What's here?" Jonathan cried. He had a sudden vision of the pygmy mummy screaming at him, and the hair on the back of his neck rose. "Who is it?"

Something was coming through the trees, moving steadily toward them. Jonathan reached for the gun he had stolen from Rick and pulled it, holding it in both hands. It trembled in his grip, and he tried to point it everywhere at once, his eyes darting in all directions. "Is it the pygmy mummies?"

"Many things once lived in Ahm Shere," Ardeth said flatly. "And many things died here."

Jonathan swallowed hard. "That's not very comforting."

The thing in the trees drew nearer. It sounded big, larger than the pygmy mummies, and Jonathan's fear ratcheted up another notch. He took a quivering step backward, closer to Ardeth. "Shouldn't we run?"

He saw a flash of red amid the lush green, then sunlight glinting off something metallic.

Someone was laughing.

Jonathan cocked the gun and willed himself to stop shaking.

A man stepped from the trees. He was tall and powerfully muscled, and he wore red and black robes with solemn dignity. He carried a sword in one hand and his eyes were alight with malice. He smiled, an expression that might have been mistaken for delight on someone else's face. "Ardeth Bay."

Ardeth lifted his head proudly. "Lock Nah."

****

"Rick…"

"Where's my bag?" He looked around frantically, searching for the gunnysack that had held all his weapons. There was dynamite in there, and more matches.

The mummies were howling now, screeching in their high-pitched voices. The trees shook as they came closer. 

Evy darted forward and seized the bag, yanking it open as she scurried back to his side; she knew what he was after.

"Burn it!" Rick shouted. "Burn it down! It's the only way!" They could not make a stand against those vicious, one-minded creatures. They would be ripped to shreds if they stayed where they were.

Evy dug into his pocket, grabbing the book of matches there. 

The first pygmy leapt from the trees. One of the Med-jai shot it down in mid-air, and its body exploded, the remains falling to the ground, lost in the undergrowth.

"Take it!" Evy lit a match and held it to the wick of the dynamite. She tossed it to the nearest Med-jai. 

They burst from the jungle, a mass of hideous, shrieking rot. Around him, the Med-jai opened fire.

Rick took careful aim and began shooting.

****

The tree at his back was spiny and poked at him through his clothing, but Jonathan scarcely noticed. He stood among the palms and watched the duel before him with detached horror.

He recognized Lock Nah, of course. He had watched as Ardeth first killed this man in the oasis three years ago, the sight of his rifle trained on any who might get near enough to interfere. He had been ready to shoot the man in the red robe then, if things began to go badly for his friend, but Ardeth had prevailed in that fight, and in the end he almost hadn't been fast enough. He had grinned and allowed himself a moment of victorious triumph, and in that split-second another man had stepped up smartly and put his gun to the back of Ardeth's head. In terror, he had closed his finger over the trigger, praying he had not just shot the wrong man.

Now Lock Nah was here again, brought back to life by the power of the diamond of Ahm Shere. Nothing else could have produced that blinding white light, and Jonathan felt a creeping terror settle over him when he tried to think of what else might have been resurrected by the stone.

Who else was loose in Ahm Shere?

Three years ago, from the distant cliff, the swordfight he had witnessed had looked like a play, something staged by two actors. Now, only a few feet away, he saw the brutality of it, the savagery inherent in the motions. He saw the lust for murder in the eyes of both fighters, and he feared for himself -- they would cut him down in an instant if he got in the way.

Being dead clearly hadn't hurt Lock Nah any. The man fought with strength and skill, with a calm patience that only the dead could know. And Ardeth, grief-stricken and enraged, was losing the battle.

Jonathan raised the gun, then lowered it again. The combatants moved so quickly in their dance that he had no chance to fire. They circled and came together and separated, all in a matter of seconds, and he was afraid to shoot. 

Lock Nah smiled. He said something in Arabic.

Ardeth flinched as though slapped. Furious rage darkened his face. He ran forward, shouting something in his native language, something that could only be a curse. 

"No!" Jonathan threw himself off the tree, unsure what exactly he hoped to accomplish, knowing only that he had to stop this.

Lock Nah stepped into the attack. Their swords crashed together, then Ardeth's blade was wrested from his hand. It spun through the air, and Jonathan had to quickly sidestep to avoid being slashed by the spinning steel.

Still smiling, Lock Nah ran Ardeth through.

****

The oasis was on fire. 

Hand in hand, they ran. They were vaguely aware of screaming, and gunfire, but they left their weapons behind. They knew only the need for safety, and so they ran.

****

For a moment they stood still, as though uncertain what to do next. Lock Nah's smile was frozen in place. Ardeth stared at him, wide-eyed with shock. Jonathan stood next to them, the cry still lingering on his lips.

Then from behind them, gunfire erupted, shattering the stillness. Animation bled back into the tableau before him.

Lock Nah wrenched his arm back and his sword slid free of Ardeth's body, the blade coated a bright scarlet. Ardeth staggered back a single step.

"Now _you_ will know," Lock Nah promised fiercely. He lifted his arm, ready for the final swing of his sword.

Jonathan let his left hand fall to his side. "I think not," he said, and fired.

Lock Nah's head whipped to the left; the sword dropped from his hand. His entire body arched backward, then he fell heavily. Before he could hit the ground, his corpse exploded outward in a spray of black sand.

Instinctively Jonathan turned away from that blast. When he looked back, Ardeth was still standing there, staring at the place where Lock Nah had last stood. Black sand had settled on his hair and shoulders, but he seemed oblivious to it. Blood darkened the front of his robe from the wound in his chest. 

Jonathan thrust the pistol into his belt. "I--"

Ardeth jerked, the dazed shock clearing from his eyes. He looked at Jonathan, then down at the black sand on the ground. "Not real," he muttered. He turned around and began walking further into the jungle, in the direction he had been headed before Lock Nah had emerged from the trees.

"Where are you going?" Jonathan cried. He ran forward. "What do you mean, not real?"

Ardeth took another step, then stopped. He swayed on his feet, then collapsed to his knees with a low groan. He pressed his left hand to his chest. "He was not real," he repeated. "This is not real."

"Not real!" He almost screamed the words. There had not been this much blood even when Evy was stabbed. Had Ardeth lost his mind, finally snapping under the pressure? He leaned down. "You need--"

"Listen to me!" Ardeth reached up and seized his shirtfront, yanking him downward with a startled squawk. "He was not real, he was not there. You did not kill him. This--" he held up his bloodied hand -- "this is not real." He groaned. "Must believe." But whether he was exhorting Jonathan or himself was hard to tell.

"How can it not be real?" Jonathan asked, squirming in Ardeth's grip. From here the wound certainly looked real enough. He had to look away from the sight of all that blood.

"The diamond cannot do this," Ardeth said. He closed his eyes and bowed his head against the pain. "Only the…only the Book of the Dead. The diamond's power is…is illusion. This is not real."

"You mean none of this is really here?" He waved his hand about. "We're still really in the desert?"

"Yes." Ardeth let go of him and held both hands to his chest. 

Jonathan straightened up and turned in a slow circle. _Must believe._

He tried it. He stared at a palm tree, seeing the texture of its trunk, the way its leaves moved in the breeze. _You're not really there_ , he thought fiercely. _You don't exist._

And the tree vanished.

"Whoa!" He staggered back in shock. Where the palm tree had stood was only a patch of golden sand, the same sand he had ridden over earlier this morning. He blinked rapidly, unable to believe it, and as he did so, the tree reappeared, reasserting itself with alarming solidity. "Wha--?"

"Jonathan." Ardeth whispered his name.

"Did you see that?" He pointed at the tree, incredulous. "I made it disappear!"

"Because you believed it." Ardeth looked up at him. "As I believe in this."

Jonathan stared at his friend for a moment, then recoiled. "No!" He seized Ardeth's arm, trying to pull the Med-jai to his feet. "Oh, no, you don't. You'll die if you do that. Come on! We've got to get to the temple."

Ardeth pulled his arm free. "Go," he said. 

Panic yammered in the back of his mind. Where was Evy when he needed her? She always knew the right thing to say. Or Rick. Rick would just bodily pick up Ardeth and force the Med-jai to go on. Everybody else would know what to do, except for him.

He took a deep breath and tried. "If you die now it will be the most selfish thing you have ever done in your life."

Ardeth glared at him. "I told you to go."

Jonathan ignored this. "You only want to be with your family. So you're going to give in now. Forget about everybody who needs you. Forget about the Med-jai." He rushed on before he could lose his nerve. "Forget about your son."

Ardeth was on his feet in a flash. "Don't you talk about my son!" He grabbed Jonathan, one arm across the Englishman's throat, forcing him back until Jonathan slammed up against a tree. 

"Why not?" Jonathan shot back. "At least I'm thinking about him. It's more than you're doing."

Ardeth hit him. His head snapped back and bounced off the tree; bright stars exploded in front of his eyes. He felt his knees buckle and he sank to the ground, hearing a high ringing in his right ear. 

"I ought to kill you for that," Ardeth said wearily. Jonathan heard him walk over to his fallen sword and thrust it back in its sheath. "Instead it seems I owe you my life."

In the distance, he could still hear the gunfire, and screaming. These things had never stopped, but he had somehow blocked them out until just now. Cautiously he looked up, wincing at the pain that bolted through his skull. Ardeth stood over him, holding out one hand. 

He took it and stood, bracing himself against the tree, groaning at the throbbing ache in his head. "I'm sorry."

Ardeth looked at him, and for a moment his stern façade wavered, revealing the desperate hurt beneath. "You were right," he said. "I thought only of myself, and how to end my pain. That was not the way."

"So you're--" He made a gesture.

"The wound is gone," Ardeth said. "I told you, it was not real."

"But if you had believed it was, you would have died from it."

"Yes." The Med-jai glanced over his shoulder, toward the sound of the battle raging behind them. "We must hurry."

Jonathan pushed himself off the tree. "Right." When Ardeth began walking through the jungle, he followed, going further into Ahm Shere, toward the temple that should not be.

**********

Chapter 6  
The Book of the Dead

"Rick!"

He saw it, too. Ahead, briefly glimpsed through the thick jungle growth, was the gold pyramid. 

They had outrun the fire, and now they moved forward at a loping gait that ate up the ground quickly. Rick had bound his right arm to his side, but every step sent pain jolting through him, and he was beginning to question his ability to do anything in the upcoming fight. As long as he kept going, he thought he would be all right, but as soon as they stopped, all bets were off.

Of the Med-jai who had ridden into Ahm Shere, only a dozen remained. The others were dead or scattered, for in the chaos of fire and destruction, they had been separated. Perhaps some had stumbled into further danger, but Rick prayed most of them had managed to find their way to safety, and were even now working through the jungle toward the pyramid.

Ahead, a sudden shout went up, and Rick started in surprise as a single gunshot split the morning. He staggered to a halt, guided by Evy, who had not let go of his hand the entire time.

The Med-jai parted to reveal the dead horse laying on the ground. The black stallion wore the honorific tack that marked it as belonging to Ardeth, and one foreleg was shattered. There was no sign of its rider.

"Where's Jonathan?" Evy asked in a low, worried voice. She looked around.

"He's probably with Ardeth," Rick said, trying to reassure her. "He'll be fine." He made himself stop right there. This was Jonathan they were talking about, after all. Anything else he said would only come across as a patent attempt at false cheer. He had to be honest, to himself if not to Evelyn.

After a brief consultation, one of the Med-jai came over to them. "They went on foot from here. We must hurry."

Rick nodded. "Then let's go."

****

Khalid Hassan was exultant. 

He had not known what to expect within the pyramid itself, and it had surpassed his wildest dreams. Within those golden walls was everything he needed to raise Lord Imhotep and hand control of the world over to the High Priest. He would be exalted as Imhotep's servant, and all the world would cower beneath him.

He had feared they might have to search, that even the illusory temple would not be enough, but in the end it was all too easy. The Book of the Dead, the precious treasure he sought, was simply laying on the floor, discarded as worthless by whomever had last used it.

He permitted himself a small smile as he picked it up. For three years he had waited for this day, forcing himself to learn patience. It had not been easy, and at times he had wanted to scream with frustration, but now all that was about to come to an end.

It still rankled, to this day. He had wanted so badly to witness the Scorpion King's downfall. To have to sit out the greatest moment in history at the abandoned dig site had been an ignominy which had not sat well with him. But he had obeyed, consoling himself with the thought that when Lord Imhotep took over the world, he would be remembered then.

In hindsight, his banishment to Hamunaptra had been for the best, saving his life and those of his companions. For had he gone with them, he would surely have perished in Ahm Shere, as the others had. He was thankful, of course, but he still wished he might have been here three years ago, that he could have seen what happened.

He pushed these thoughts from his mind and focused on the Book of the Dead. Like all of the oasis, it was not really here, for only a shade of its reality had been summoned by the power of the diamond. Its illusory form was open, and the incantation on the page was that of resurrection -- for a mortal, not the undead being that was Lord Imhotep.

Khalid's smile widened. "So one of you died," he murmured. "I wonder who it was."

His companion, who had been with him since their capture at Hamunaptra, leaned in. "What is it?"

"Someone used this book," Khalid said. "Three years ago, one of the O'Connells died." His smile turned slowly into an expression of anticipation.

Soon, they would all die. And then not even the Book could save them.

****

Jonathan was limping. With some exasperation, Ardeth stopped. "When did you hurt yourself?"

"I've been limping since I got here," Jonathan snapped. "You're just now noticing?"

Ardeth said nothing to this. In his current state of mind, he considered it a major accomplishment that he had noticed at all.

He turned away and saw that the pyramid was very close now. After the confrontation with Lock Nah, he had made a conscious decision not to see the Oasis, and the jungle growth that Jonathan Carnahan clearly did. While he had run across the stark sands of the desert unimpeded, Jonathan had ducked tree branches that were not there, and had a harder time of it. 

Ardeth had no patience for the Oasis. But he did accept the pyramid. For within its illusory confines, this would all be settled.

He was ashamed of himself, and his behavior earlier. Jonathan was right -- he had acted very selfishly. He had allowed himself to forget his oath of revenge, and that his small son still lived. His grief had consumed him, and nearly led him to what was essentially suicide. Were it not for Jonathan, he would have let himself die there, bleeding to death from a wound that was not even real.

He closed his left hand into a fist, relishing the pain of the cut across his palm. He had almost forgotten the small wound, and the blood that had run from the cut, blood he had used to mark his son's forehead. It was right to remember these things, it was right to remember Aarif, and think of the boy. 

"You know," Jonathan said, as they began trotting forward again, "I don't think I ever told you everything that happened the first time we were here."

"You told me enough," Ardeth said. It was probably true that he didn't know everything, but the details did not matter. The story had come out on Jonathan's first visit back to Egypt. Intensely curious as to how the Scorpion King had been defeated -- was it O'Connell or Imhotep who had done it? -- Ardeth had asked many questions, which Jonathan had answered with some reluctance. After that, the subject had never come up again.

"I don't think I did," Jonathan said now.

Ardeth came to a halt for the second time. "Then tell me now," he commanded.

Jonathan winced. "You've got to promise not to hit me again." His right eye was swelling shut, already beginning to bruise. Here was another thing Ardeth was ashamed of, but he could not bring himself to apologize.

"I promise," he said stiffly. "Tell me."

"I didn't tell you before, because there was no point. And I don't like thinking about it. It was horrible enough the first time it happened." Jonathan's shoulder jerked in remembered pain. "Evelyn died here."

Ardeth was stunned. He thought of Rick O'Connell as a brother -- _Sirma ma-asalam, ya ahi_ \-- but for Evelyn he had the deepest respect and affection. She was someone he could never have, an unattainable icon who represented everything right with the world. She was beautiful, intelligent, strong, and loyal. He had seen from the start that O'Connell was falling for her, and wished the American nothing but the best. He had ridden from Hamunaptra and left them to find each other, thinking with some wistfulness that he might spend his entire life looking for such a woman and never find her.

Seven years later, he had found Ranya and a love worthy of his dreams. He had known then what O'Connell must surely feel for Evelyn, only he had never expected his happiness to end so terribly soon.

"It was Alex's idea," Jonathan Carnahan said. "He read from the book. He saved her."

"You brought her back to life?" He was aware that his voice was little more than a hoarse croak.

"Well, Alex did," Jonathan said. "I kept Anck-su-namun occupied long enough." He grimaced, remembering. "She nearly cut my heart out."

"He read from the Book." It was suddenly difficult to breathe. Ardeth stared at the pyramid and tried to remember why he was here.

The Book of the Dead. He had thought it was lost, buried under the sands of Ahm Shere, forever a part of the desert. It was one of the reasons the Med-jai now guarded this barren wasteland, for if the sand ever gave up its treasure, the consequences could be horrific. But if Alex O'Connell had used the Book in the pyramid, perhaps it would show itself. He had hoped the Book had been lost three years ago, but if Alex had read from it, this meant the odds were good that it would be easily found. Ardeth gritted his teeth and bit back a groan of frustration. He had counted on the Book being difficult to locate, hoping that it would take some time for the members of the cult to find it.

But the diamond had extraordinary power, power enough to raise specters of the dead so real that a man could die from them. Could it not also reveal the Book? And would it be enough? Could Khalid Hassan read from the illusory book?

He had suspected before that time was short, that they might arrive too late. Now he was sure of it. There was no hope of reaching the pyramid and preventing Khalid Hassan from reading the Book and raising the Creature. For a third time, the High Priest Imhotep would walk the earth, and for a third time, the Med-jai had failed.

"Ardeth?" Jonathan touched his sleeve tentatively.

He jerked back, rounding on the Englishman. "We will be too late," he said. "The Creature may already walk the earth."

Jonathan swallowed hard. "Right. But won't he need to find the chest first? Otherwise he can't regenerate."

It was true. Perhaps the Book of the Dead did not need to be real, but the Creature would need the genuine chest and the canopic jars within in order to regenerate. Until then he would only have a fraction of his powers, and be more vulnerable. "Where is the chest?" he asked.

"How would I know?" Jonathan said peevishly.

"They would not want to have lost track of it," Ardeth said. "They must have had it with them, three years ago. It must be here in the Oasis. They will raise the Creature, then send men out here to find it and open it."

"Sure," Jonathan agreed, "but who would want to do that?"

"For the glory of their Lord, men will do almost anything," Ardeth said coldly. There were many desert tribes who waged wars against each other in Allah's name, and the one constant through history was the invocation of religion to justify any atrocity. There would surely be men among Khalid Hassan's cult who would volunteer to sacrifice themselves for the Creature's sake.

"Right." Jonathan sighed. "Well, but they have to find it first." He tried to sound cheerful, the old jolly Englishman who could see the bright side of everything, and came nowhere close. Ardeth suspected that particular man was long gone, and did not mourn him.

"Yes. And we must use that time as best we can." He looked pointedly at his companion. "Can you walk the rest of the way?"

Jonathan lifted his chin. "I can," he said with stiff dignity.

"Good." Ardeth turned and began heading through the jungle, toward the pyramid and the Creature.

****

An hour later they reached the treeline. Jonathan was limping badly by this point, but he said nothing. He knew he was on very thin ice with Ardeth, and he was afraid to say anything else to further upset the Med-jai. He thought it best to keep his mouth shut and do what he was told.

Two men stood at the entrance to the temple, wearing the red and black robes that the cult continued to favor. They were each armed with a rifle and a curved sword similar to Ardeth's.

Ardeth stood aside. "Take them," he said. 

Jonathan pulled his pistol reluctantly. Killing a man in order to save another was one thing, but cold-blooded murder like this was entirely different. He was not sure he could do it.

He raised the gun, cocked it, and sighted on the man standing on the right side of the steps. His finger curled about the trigger, then just stopped.

_You any good with that?_

_Three times Fox and Hounds Grand Champion, I'll have you know. You any good with that?_

_We will know soon enough._ The flash of a sword in the moonlight and the kiss of cold steel at his throat. _The only way to kill an Anubis warrior is by taking off its head._

_I'll remember that._

He hadn't even realized until later that Ardeth was teasing him.

He kept his eyes on his target and made his only protest. "You realize that by doing this, they'll know we're here."

To his left, he heard the sound of steel scraping on steel as Ardeth drew his sword. "I know."

Jonathan sighed. "Right." 

He fired.

****

The gunshot echoed through the Oasis, and Rick's head snapped up. It was closely followed by a second, then not repeated.

"Jonathan," Evy breathed.

****

When the first man fell, the second sprang into action immediately, bringing up his rifle. But before he could do more than start to aim, Jonathan shot him, and the man fell in a heap.

They ran for the entrance to the pyramid, and as they passed the place where Evy had died, Jonathan shivered all over. He would swear there was an imprint on the sand from his sister's body.

His ankle gave way as he reached the top of the stairs, and he cried out in pain, lurching to his right, then falling to his hands and knees. The pistol slid across the sand and came to rest against the wall of the temple. The stone beneath him was impossibly solid, and he thought wildly that it could not be an illusion, it simply could not be.

From deep within, a loud bellow shattered the silence. 

Jonathan looked up in horror. Ahead of him, two men came running up the stairs, their guns drawn. 

Ardeth made short work of them. "Now, Jonathan!" He picked up one of the rifles and held it in his left hand, his bloodied sword in his right. He was already halfway down the steps.

The entire temple shook under a second, louder roar. 

Jonathan moaned softly. He knew that voice. 

Gunfire erupted in the stairwell, and he staggered to his feet, scooping up the fallen pistol. 

Someone screamed, and then the gunshots ceased. 

He ran across the sand and stared down the stairwell. Two more men in red robes were crumpled on the stone. Ardeth was nearly at the bottom of the stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste.

"Wait for me!" Jonathan cried. He tripped down the stairs, gasping at the pain in his ankle. 

The stairs ended in an antechamber containing a golden statue of an enormous scorpion. A hole in this beckoned eagerly, and Jonathan shuddered again. He knew without being told that this was the resting place for the Bracelet, that this was how the Army of Anubis had been released. Winding canyons in the floor writhed and squirmed with masses of black scorpions, and Jonathan felt the hair on the back of his neck crawl with revulsion at the sight.

Beyond this room, a curved hall led through the temple. Jonathan fought back his terror. "Are we really here?" he gasped. "This isn't real, is it?"

"I do not know," Ardeth said coolly. "Does it really matter?

"I was afraid you were going to say that," he said under his breath.

"Do you remember the spell used to make the Creature mortal again?"

He groaned. "No." His memories of their desperate battle against Imhotep at Hamunaptra were fragmented at best. He remembered holding the book while Evy read from it, and how Rick had stabbed the mummy, but little else with any clarity. 

Ardeth glared at him. "Then you must find the Book of Amun-Ra and take it from them. Read the proper incantation, and you will be able to kill the Creature."

"And what are you going to be doing?" he cried, terrified at the thought of doing all this by himself.

"I will deal with the cult, and Khalid Hassan," Ardeth said, and his eyes promised death to them all.

****

As they neared the edge of the trees, the mummy's roar swept over the Oasis. Rick staggered and nearly fell; only Evy's firm grip on his arm kept him on his feet.

The Med-jai began to run, crying out to each other in Arabic.

Rick forced himself to run, teeth clenched. "Well," he said, "they always say, third time's the charm."

****

The hall ended in a large open room. Great cauldrons of burning oil stood on the floor, the light from their flames illuminating the chamber. Torches hung at various intervals along the wall, and the floor was firelit stone. Enormous double doors hung open at the far end of the room, and cutting the chamber in half was a gaping pit leading to the Underworld. Greedy hands reached out from the chasm, seeking any who might be careless enough to stray close to the brink.  
A man in a red robe stood in the center of room, holding the Book of the Dead. Other men in similar robes were on either side, forming a loose half-circle. They were on their knees, heads bowed to the floor, trembling in fear.

Imhotep, Seti's High Priest, had risen. The Creature stood before Khalid Hassan, a hideous half-formed being that had rotting holes in its skull and exposed muscle and sinew. It looked nothing at all like the man Ardeth had seen thirteen years ago in Cairo, and he drew up short at the sight.

The men had their backs to the room's entrance, and Imhotep was smiling at three who were now creeping forward with a carved chest. Ardeth's heart sank at the sight. Clearly Khalid Hassan's men had already found the chest in the Oasis and brought it with them -- the two days head start the cult had been given had been put to good use.

As they watched, clinging to the doorframe, one of the men opened the chest. Mist curled up from it, and the cult members began to chant the Creature's name, faster and faster, working themselves into a frenzy. Khalid Hassan stared over the Book, eyes wide, an expression of rapture on his face.

The Creature unhinged his jaw and uttered an unearthly roar. The three men began to scream as Imhotep stole their lives to create his own. Ghastly sucking sounds filled the chamber, and the men's screams became first liquid, then choked off altogether. Their bodies, lightweight and desiccated, fell to the floor.

Jonathan cringed away, but Ardeth watched every moment of it. In mere seconds, the Creature became whole, appearing as the man he had once been, the man who had fallen in love with Anck-su-namun and thus doomed himself to his fate. 

Khalid Hassan laid the Book of the Dead on the bowed back of one of his companions. He clasped his hands in front of him and opened his mouth to speak.

Ardeth walked into the chamber.

The cult members still had their heads bowed, and so did not see him. Only the Creature saw, and those deep brown eyes narrowed. "Med-jai!" 

Khalid and his followers spun around, and hands pulled guns and knives, ready to kill at a single word from their Lord.

Ardeth stopped. In flawless Ancient Egyptian he said, "I have no quarrel with you, Imhotep. I am not here as a Med-jai. I am not here to stop you."

The Creature's expression changed, arrogance settling over its features. "Then why are you here?"

"My quarrel is with that one." Ardeth pointed to Khalid Hassan. "He is the one I want."

*********

Chapter 7  
Ghosts of the Past

Two men were dead at the top of the stairs. Rick barely saw them. He had eyes only for the place on the sand where his life had ended.

Sometimes he relived it all in his dreams, nights when he would wake shaking, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. In these dreams he saw the two women staring at each other, the knife between them. Over and over he saw Evy fall to her knees, and heard himself scream.

Always in his dreams she cried that single tear. _Take care of Alex…I love you._ And always she died, despite his desperate terror, in the face of his anguished sobs. He knelt over her, his tears wetting her skin, and she did not hold him or tell him that things would be all right. She just lay there, unmoving and still, her beautiful eyes closed.

He gave thanks every day that she was there, that she was alive and that she was his. He had lost her then and it was a miracle that she was here beside him today; every morning he woke and remembered this, and was filled with a simple joy and gratitude.

"Rick." She knew what he was thinking. Her hand squeezed his fiercely, reminding him that she was there, that she had not left him.

He was walking slowly now. The pain from his arm was beginning to interfere with his thinking, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore the hurt. Together they mounted the steps of the pyramid. There were footsteps in the sand, two sets. Rick let go of Evy's hand and drew his gun.

"Rick." She sounded very solemn, and he turned to her. "Rick, what happens when the pyramid collapses this time?"

He just stared at her. He had no answer to this. There would be no last-minute rescue by Izzy, nobody to come and save them. When the oasis was destroyed, they would die along with everything else.

Evelyn knew it, too. She lifted her chin bravely. "At least Alex isn't here," she said, and tears glistened in her eyes.

Rick had to look away. Holding his gun awkwardly in his left hand, he followed the Med-jai down the stairs, into the temple.

****

Once, he had had a conversation that went like this:

_And at the top of the golden pyramid, there was a huge diamond._

_Huge? How huge?_

The diamond in his imagination had been of an unspecified size, just big enough to lure him to it. But in reality, it was perhaps two feet across, girded in gold. On all the four corners were golden asp heads, and their eyes were sapphire and emerald and ruby and topaz. It had fit so well in his arms, and he remembered cradling it close on the dirigible ride back to Cairo, sometimes laughing over it.

_So huge that it would reflect the sun, winking at distant travelers, beckoning them to their deaths._

Jonathan didn't know about that, nor did he care. All he knew was that the diamond had brought more misery into his life than any other single thing. When Evy had been taken to Hamunaptra by Imhotep, he had not felt this terrified. When Alex had been kidnapped, he had not felt this depressed. But the diamond, the cursed diamond of Ahm Shere, had managed to do it all.

He could see it now, sitting on an altar in the far corner of the room. Golden chalices and bowls and plates sat on the shelves, and some of these were knocked aside, as though a great wind had buffeted them. The diamond caught the firelight and shone a beautiful amber color. Beside it lay the Book of Amun-Ra, its golden pages appearing on fire in the flickering light.

Jonathan stared at it and hated it more than he had ever hated anything in his life.

In the room ahead, Imhotep began to suck the life from three of the cult members. Unable to look, Jonathan ducked back into the hall, his eyes squeezed shut. The sounds were bad enough, but there was no way he could bring himself to look at that horror. 

And then Imhotep spoke. "Med-jai!"

Jonathan's eyes flew open. "Med-jai," he whispered. He glanced to his right, saw Ardeth was gone, and groaned loudly. "Oh, no."

He turned and peered around the entry, appalled to see Ardeth walking boldly into the chamber as though he had every right to be there. "Oh, no."

Ardeth began to speak in Ancient Egyptian. Shocked, Jonathan watched as Imhotep almost smiled. The mummy made a reply, and Ardeth said something back. He threw his rifle to the side and was now armed with only his sword. He began walking toward Khalid Hassan.

Horrified, Jonathan clung to the doorframe, too astonished to react. What on earth was he supposed to do now? With all those men in there, he'd be cut down the moment he set foot in the room. There was no possible way he could retrieve the Book of Amun-Ra.

In the chamber, Khalid Hassan raised his pistol. 

Ardeth did not break his stride. He simply kept coming.

Imhotep barked a command, and Khalid's eyes rolled toward the Creature he had just raised, the Lord he had sworn to obey. The blood drained from his face.

With just enough command of the language to grasp a rudimentary understanding, Jonathan could almost feel sorry for Hassan. Imhotep had just ordered him to fight fairly, and the small smile on the High Priest's face showed that he was looking forward to the entertainment the duel would provide.

Ardeth let loose a wild yell and charged. Khalid Hassan thrust his gun into his belt and pulled his sword, meeting that fierce attack. Their swords crashed together and Khalid was driven back under Ardeth's fury.

In an agony of helplessness, Jonathan watched.

****

The memories were close now. Here was where the curator had laughed at him, exultant. _You are too late, O'Connell!_ He had watched, half-horrified and half-glad, as the man staggered away, his right arm eaten to the bone. It shamed him now to think how he had savagely enjoyed the man's pain, but at the time, torn apart by his grief over Evy's death, he had only thought it a good thing. Here was the passageway he had walked down, hearing the gong resound as Imhotep summoned the Scorpion King. 

And there, at the end of the hall, stood Jonathan.

"Jonathan!" Evy's glad cry echoed through the stone passageway.

Jonathan whirled around, his face white and his eyes full of dark horror.

In the chamber beyond, Imhotep stood tall, fully formed and whole. He wore a black loincloth and a black cloak, and the firelight made his skin a warm gold. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. The sounds of swordplay rang out into the hall, but Rick could not see the combatants. 

The members of the cult stood still, their eyes on something to the left. Each of them had weapons drawn, but nobody moved.

"Hurry!" Jonathan shouted.

And as one, the Med-jai charged.

****

The cult members were willing to stand back and allow their leader to battle alone, but they were not fools. When the Med-jai entered the chamber, they fought back. A vicious firefight ensued.

Rick stared at Imhotep and knew he could not defeat the mummy this time. He threw himself against the wall of the passageway, trying to avoid the deadly spray of gunfire from within the chamber.

Inside, Imhotep was smiling. 

****

"Rick!" He pulled at his brother-in-law's sleeve, eliciting a pained cry from Rick. "You have to stop him! I need to go in there!"

"What?" Rick sounded incredulous.

"I need to get the Book!" he shouted. "It's the only way to kill him!"

"No," Evy said calmly. She came up to stand beside him. "I don't need the Book." Her dark eyes were fixed on Imhotep. " _Kadeesh mal, kadeesh mal,_ " she began.

She remembered! Jonathan felt a wild cheer rise in his throat. Grinning widely, he turned toward Rick.

And came face to face with Anck-su-namun.

****

Khalid Hassan was a skilled fighter, and within moments Ardeth knew he had met his match.

He knew when the Med-jai poured into the room, and the slaughter began, but he had nothing to spare for them. He had given everything he had to his people for all his life, but this day was for him. Jonathan had called it selfish, and perhaps it was, but no force on earth could have stopped him then.

Khalid fell back before the fury of his attack, and only a minute after the duel had begun, they were backed into the corner, fighting for their lives. 

****

"Evy!" The cry left his mouth before he could take it back, and immediately he cursed himself. If he had stayed silent -- if he had let her finish the incantation -- what might have happened? He would never know.

Evy spun around, her eyes wide. 

Anck-su-namun held the golden sais she had wielded three years ago, and Jonathan felt a phantom pain sear his chest at the sight. Her brown eyes were fixed on his sister, full of murderous hatred. She said something in Ancient Egyptian and swung with both hands.

Instinctively Jonathan leapt back…

…and found himself in the chamber with Imhotep.

********

Chapter 8  
The Curse is Broken

_You told them their destinies. Now tell me mine. I want to be the fourth side of the pyramid. Tell me my task._

_No man can tell another his destiny._

In his dream, Rick and Evy and Alex had walked on the globe, each bearing their destiny, made a part of the world through the shared burden and privilege of their task. In his dream, he had watched from above, longing to be with them.

_Now what do you think my dream means?_

_I think it means you were there. You were the Med-jai who cursed Imhotep._

Ardeth ruled the Med-jai, a king without a title, a man who was intimately connected with destiny. For three thousand years the Med-jai had fought to keep the world safe from the evil that was Imhotep. They were a part of things in a way no one else could begin to understand.

_So tell me. What am I supposed to do?_

Jonathan stared at the diamond and knew exactly what he had to do.

****

"Get back, Rick!" She ducked, and felt the air from the passage of the sai stir the hair on top of her head. 

The temple was the same as it had been just before its destruction. There was no time to marvel upon this. Evy simply darted into the chamber beyond and seized the sais laying on the ground, exactly where she had dropped them three years ago. She remembered it clearly, how Anck-su-namun had shoved her against the wall, preventing her from running to Rick's side and helping him battle the Scorpion King. How she had hated the woman then!

Anck-su-namun followed her in, and from behind her, Imhotep shouted his love's name.

****

Rick watched it all with a curious detachment. He felt like a spectator watching a play evolve before him, something he observed, but did not participate in.

Did the others, for instance, even notice that the gun battle between the Med-jai and the cult members had ended, that individual fights now raged among the enemies? Their ammunition gone, the men who were left alive attacked each other with knives and fists and swords, and paid no attention to anything else.

Did they notice that Ardeth and Khalid Hassan fought in grim silence in the corner?

Did they see that the Book of the Dead was cast aside on the floor, forgotten by everyone?

He walked cautiously into the chamber, holding his pistol, keeping close to the wall. Ahead of him, Evy and Anck-su-namun battled with the sais, their dark hair whipping furiously about them. 

Further ahead, Jonathan was sidling toward the chasm leading to the Underworld. He was very pale and kept nervously licking his lips.

Imhotep, High Priest of Seti I, had eyes only for his lost love. He cried her name a second time.

A well-placed kick knocked Evelyn backward, and Anck-su-namun whirled around.

****

"You!" 

Over the sounds of battle, Imhotep could be heard quite clearly.

"I did everything for you! I would have given you the world!" The grief and enraged betrayal in the Creature's voice was heartrending. 

For a moment, the fight was forgotten. Ardeth turned toward Imhotep, mesmerized by the hatred in the Creature's eyes. Only a foot away, Khalid Hassan stared at his Lord, swordpoint resting on the stone.

Evelyn was backing up, moving stealthily toward O'Connell, who stood just within the doorway, looking at everything uncertainly.

Unseen by them all, Jonathan Carnahan vaulted over the abyss of the Underworld and began running for the Book.

Anck-su-namun dropped the sais. They clattered on the stone and she accidentally kicked one as she began to back away.

"You betrayed me!" bellowed Imhotep. He raised his hands, and let his power flow.

The cult members and Med-jai were flung off their feet and hurled into the chasm of the Underworld. Some of them tried to pull themselves up, but grasping hands dragged them down. Their screams became muffled and indistinct, then disappeared altogether. Ardeth felt nothing for the red-robed members of the cult, but he had to choke back a cry as he watched men he had known since childhood vanish into the abyss.

"Forgive me, Imhotep!" Anck-su-namun fell to her knees, terror whitening her face. "I did not mean to leave you." She held out her hands imploringly. "I beg of you, spare my life."

The Creature lifted his hands again, and there was no mercy in his arrogant features. "You are less than nothing," he said coldly. "You are dead to me, for all eternity!" 

Anck-su-namun began to scream as fire consumed her. The flames were an unholy blue, and they smoked a sinuous black. She fell to the stone, writhing in mortal agony.

Satisfied vengeance burned in Imhotep's eyes.

**** 

None of them saw him. 

Jonathan seized the Book of Amun-Ra with a silent shout of jubilation. He had it!

****

Imhotep raised his arms and threw back his head, voicing a deep lament to the heavens. The entire temple began to quake, and Evy reeled back into Rick's chest. He wrapped his good arm around her, and together they watched the mummy's grief.

She found it in herself to feel pity for him. She had never forgotten the devastated anguish in his eyes when Anck-su-namun had betrayed him and his love by running away. Sometimes she wondered what might have happened, had Imhotep not willingly cast himself into the Underworld. Might she have tried to save him, too?

Directly ahead of her, the blue fire ran out of fuel and burned itself out. A black, smoking husk was revealed on the stone, all that remained of Anck-su-namun.

Imhotep lowered his arms and the shaking that had wracked the pyramid came to a halt. He stared at them. "You cannot stop me," he said.

Evy lifted her chin. " _Kadeesh mal. Kadeesh mal._ "

In the corner, Ardeth dropped his sword. The noise was astonishingly loud in the large chamber, and Imhotep whirled to his right to face the Med-jai.

****

When the pyramid began to tremble, everything on those golden shelves tumbled to the floor. Jonathan, who had been kneeling on the stone, crouched over the Book of Amun-Ra, flung his arms over his head to protect himself. Cups and bowls fell about him; something struck his shoulder.

The diamond of Ahm Shere fell in front of him and landed on the Book of Amun-Ra. Jonathan grabbed the diamond impatiently.

The shaking stopped and Imhotep spoke. Evy began the incantation yet again.

In the corner to his right, Ardeth dropped his sword, gaining Imhotep's attention. 

Taking advantage of yet another reprieve, Jonathan bent over the Book again. He picked up the diamond, and then froze.

The firelight shone through the diamond, casting an eerie golden light on the pages. He had been reading the symbols in the moments before the tremors had begun, and he knew that what he was seeing now had not been there before.

There were new symbols on the page.

Shocked, he moved the diamond aside, and the glyphs disappeared. He blinked in astonishment. Where had they gone? Had he been seeing things?

****

Ardeth felt sick with self-hatred. He had seen his own desires, and they were the same as the Creature's. 

Thoughts of revenge had consumed him. In his desperate quest for vengeance, he had blindly led men to their deaths. He had brought the O'Connells to this place, knowing that only death would result. He had turned his back on Jonathan's attempts to make him see the truth, and focused only on his anger and thirst for revenge.

He was no better than the Creature. 

The rage that had shone in Imhotep's eyes was his own. The Creature's satisfied arrogance upon seeing what he had wrought -- this, too, was something Ardeth knew, for hadn't he been viciously glad of the killing he had already done today?

There could be no more killing. The sword fell from his hand and he stumbled forward. 

_Apparently even after three thousand years, he is still in love with her._

_I did everything for you! I would have given you the world!_

For three thousand years the Med-jai had feared Imhotep, and rightfully so. But not once had they stopped to consider why. The curse that had been bestowed on the High Priest bound him to consummate it. Imhotep, doomed to spend eternity in the hellish limbo of the undead, had never had a choice. The Med-jai themselves had brought down their own fate, for in cursing Imhotep, they had forced someone to watch over the Creature's resting place.

"Finish it!" O'Connell shouted, urging his wife to end it all.

"Wait!" He held up his hand, making Evelyn fall silent again.

Imhotep snarled in hatred. "Do you seek to stop me, Med-jai?"

" _Amun Ra, Amun Dei._ " Ardeth spoke calmly, the ancient words coming easily to him, although he had never uttered them aloud.

Three years ago, he had told Jonathan Carnahan about his dream. _At one end of the room is a powerful man, handsome and strong. He looks at me, and I at him, and I speak the words of the curse, the_ hom-dai _that makes him forever an undead, evil Creature._

He knew the words, knew them well. Three thousand years ago he had pronounced them with dread finality. 

Imhotep's eyes widened and he blanched. "You!" he breathed. 

Ardeth looked at Imhotep, the High Priest whose only crime had been to fall in love. With quiet deliberation, he finished speaking the words of the hom-dai, breaking the ancient curse.

From every flame in the room rose a ghostly white light. The beams arrowed for Imhotep and pierced him through. He cried out loudly, writhing in the light's grip. When it had passed through him and returned to the fires, he staggered, but remained on his feet.

In his eyes was an immense relief.

****

"What just happened?" Rick demanded in a low voice.

"He is no longer undead," Evy breathed.

"Is he mortal now?"

"No." 

"Then say it!"

****

There was no need. For the second time, Imhotep left this world willingly. He went with a smile on his face, and gratitude in his eyes. He cast himself into the Underworld, and sank into its abyss with relief. 

At last he could rest. At last he could die.

********

Chapter 9  
Jonathan's Destiny

The Book was forgotten in those few moments when Ardeth spoke the ancient words of the curse. Jonathan simply stared, overwhelmed by what was happening.

When the light seized Imhotep, he flinched back, and his eye fell on the diamond again. 

The light. 

The diamond.

Understanding broke in his mind. He moved the diamond over the Book again, and those strange symbols became clear again. 

He looked up, and saw Imhotep backing toward the chasm. He could not see the man's face, but he somehow knew there was nothing further to fear from the High Priest.

Imhotep fell into the Underworld. 

Jonathan stared at the place where the mummy had been, and understood that it was finally over. Imhotep was truly dead, and could not be raised again. 

Across the room, his eyes met Evy's. She looked at him with profound relief and not a bit of shock. It was hard to believe it was all over, after everything they had been through.

It was Rick, standing behind Evy, who alerted him. O'Connell's eyes widened and he shouted out, reaching up to push Evelyn out of the way as he started to bring up his gun.

Jonathan did not hesitate. He spun on one knee, his right hand letting go of the diamond and reaching for the pistol at his waist. He cocked the gun as he raised it, firing even before he was aware that he was aiming.

As fast as he was, he was still a split-second too late. Khalid Hassan stood in the corner, pistol still smoking, a thin smile on his face.

But O'Connell's warning cry had worked. Ardeth threw himself to the floor and the shot that should have killed him passed by harmlessly overhead.

Jonathan did not miss. Khalid Hassan was flung backward to crash into the wall. Heart's blood turned his red robe to black, and he gaped down at himself in shock.

"That," Jonathan said, "is for my friend."

Khalid's legs buckled and he slid down the wall, his eyes already glazing. He was dead before he hit the ground.

He looked up and saw that they were all staring at him. There was only one thing left to be done, and he did it now.

Through the diamond's light, he read aloud the incantation revealed in the Book of Amun-Ra. He did not know all the symbols, but at that moment it did not matter. He spoke them in a clear voice, without faltering, and he knew that what he said was right.

The diamond began to quake in his hands, and he tightened his grip, afraid to let go. A basso hum rose on the air, setting his teeth on edge and making him want to cringe beneath it. He read the incantation faster, understanding dimly that if he was not quick enough, he would not finish the spell in time, and they would all die here.

With an ear-splitting roar, a crack appeared in the surface of the diamond. The power it released was immense. A cyclone of white magic spiralled into the air, its slender base rising from the diamond. At the top it was as large as the chamber, and as it spun faster, it began to gather everything in the temple into it.

The pyramid began to implode, pulled into the cyclone unleashed by the diamond. Jonathan ducked his head and continued to read, but on the edges of his vision, he saw blue sky and golden sand -- the illusion was disappearing. He could not see anything else for the spiralling tornado, but he could hear Rick and Evy's screams, and he longed to shout at them that the temple was not real, they could not be killed by it. But he had time for the spell only.

He looked into it and saw the horrifying scope of the diamond's existence, the strength of years, the endless march of time. He saw the Scorpion King stride across conquered Thebes, laughing triumphantly. He saw Anubis steal the warrior's soul and claim it for his own, leaving the man to wither and die, a soulless monster. He saw the dark Underworld and the hell that had been the Scorpion King's life for five thousand years, until the day when Imhotep had woken him. 

Screaming, Jonathan stared through the diamond at the Book of Amun-Ra, and the incantation only revealed through its light. He uttered the last phrase and waited for death to claim him.

****

Three years ago the Oasis had been sucked into the pyramid and lost, but now the pyramid itself was vanishing around them. Rick clung to Evelyn with his good arm and screamed mindlessly in the howling chaos that spun about them. 

He was vaguely aware of Evy holding on for dear life to the doorframe with one hand, the other clutching him tight. 

Searing wind whipped at him, and in it he heard the roar of the Scorpion King. He heard the guttural laughter of the warriors of the Army of Anubis, the demons that had torn apart Egypt, who had nearly destroyed the Med-jai three years ago. 

He was going to die here. After surviving Ahm Shere once before, after defeating Imhotep three times, he was going to die in this place. 

Rick held his wife close and waited.

****

Ardeth covered his head and lay on the stone and would not look. It took all his strength of will to remember where he was, that the pyramid was not real, that he would be not be pulled into the diamond with the rest of the illusion. He wished he could reassure Evelyn and O'Connell, but the cyclone's roar made speech impossible.

He simply closed his eyes and waited.

****

Only Jonathan saw it end.

As he neared the last line of the incantation, the cyclone reached its peak. The pyramid was all but gone, pulled into the diamond of Ahm Shere. Sunlight streamed into the fragmented remains of the chamber, and it was harder now to see the symbols written in the Book of Amun-Ra.

He could not destroy the diamond – only its maker could do that, and the Scorpion King was dead. But he could undo its power.

He uttered the last syllable of the spell and the diamond of Ahm Shere split in two, each half resting in his hands. The cyclone exploded in a spray of black sand and Jonathan cringed reflexively from that blast, ducking his head but still stubbornly holding onto the diamond.

When the sand settled, he dared to look up.

Into a bright, desert afternoon.

The illusion was shattered. The oasis was gone. The pyramid was gone. The only things left of the entire ordeal were the two halves of the diamond, and the Book of Amun-Ra. 

Several feet away, Ardeth lay facedown, nearly lost amid a heap of black sand. He sat up slowly, blinking in the sudden light. His eyes met Jonathan's and he merely nodded.

Rick and Evy were slower to rise, and their expressions clearly revealed their shock at finding themselves still alive. Sand fell to the earth from their heads and shoulders in a puff of dark gray. They clung to each other, dazed and disbelieving.

"We made it," Evy breathed.

"Hey!" Rick raised his arm and flexed his wrist. "It's not broken anymore."

"The diamond's power has been destroyed," Ardeth said. He brushed sand from his robe and stood. "What the stone wrought, has been undone."

Rick stood, Evy still holding him. "The diamond didn't break my arm. I fell off my horse when it was killed."

"Nothing broke your arm," Ardeth said. "The oasis and everything within it were only illusion. If you believed in it, it could hurt you." He glanced at Jonathan. "Or kill you."

"Jonathan!" Evy looked at him with a mixture of glad surprise and genuine relief. "You did it, Jonathan."

A week ago he would have waved off her reaction, shaking his head and proclaiming that it was really nothing. Now he just gathered the Book of Amun-Ra and the diamond halves, and stood up. "I know."

He limped across the sand – his ankle was still sprained, of course – and held the Book out. "This is yours, I believe."

Ardeth took it from him. "Thank you, Jonathan." _For everything_ , his eyes said.

"What do I do with these?" He gestured with the twin halves of the diamond. 

"Keep them," Ardeth said. "They are useless now."

"Could someone find a way to put it back together?" Rick asked. He and Evy walked up cautiously, and Jonathan was gratified to see a new respect in their eyes when they looked at him.

"Perhaps," Ardeth said. "Anything is possible."

Impulsively Jonathan held out one half of the diamond. "Here. If the halves cannot be joined, then it can't be used to hurt anyone again."

The Med-jai hesitated, then reached for the stone. His hand shook slightly as he carefully took it from Jonathan. "I will keep it safe. No one shall take it, or even know of its existence."

He was saying the diamond would be a secret, one kept even from the rest of the Med-jai. Jonathan swallowed hard and nodded. "And I will keep mine safe," he vowed. "This time I mean it."

"I know," Ardeth said quietly.

Rick gazed about him, squinting in the bright sunlight, then looked back at Ardeth. "Don't you have some explaining to do?"

The Med-jai chieftain stared expressionlessly at Rick.

"Oh, I can field that one," Jonathan said glibly. "He was the one who cursed Imhotep in the first place. He dreams about it all the time."

Rick's eyes widened in shock, and Evelyn made a small sound of surprise and commiseration. "Have you known how to break the curse all this time?"

"I have," Ardeth said simply.

"Remind me to take him up when we get back to camp," Rick said to Evy, amusement and seriousness warring in his voice.

"Breaking the curse would not have killed him," Ardeth said. He shifted the Book of Amun-Ra and the diamond to his left hand, walked a few paces to his right, bent down and retrieved his sword from the sand. He replaced this in its scabbard, then said, "Only by making him mortal could he be killed."

"Or if he committed suicide," Rick said dryly.

"Can he be raised again?" Evy asked anxiously.

"No," Ardeth said. "He is truly dead now."

"But the Book of the Dead—"

"Is lost." Ardeth looked pointedly at them. "As is his body."

Jonathan gripped his half of the diamond hard enough to hurt his fingers. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "I should have waited." _The Book of the Dead is lost._ It was too late now to do anything about it, and he felt the old guilt slam into him with bruising force. "I could have used the diamond to find the Book, and then maybe I could have—"

"No!" Ardeth cut him off sharply. "What's done is done. You cannot change it." 

He was right, of course, but Jonathan took no comfort in this. For the rest of his life he knew he would mourn the missed opportunity to find the Book of the Dead and restore Ardeth's wife and child. There would be no solace for that guilt, no atonement.

In the far distance, a horse whinnied. Someone shouted. Jonathan raised a hand to shield his eyes and peered ahead. 

"One of the tribes," Ardeth said. "They have come in response to our message for help." He looked at them, then began walking toward the Med-jai who could now be seen, approaching on horseback.

Jonathan took a deep breath and began limping across the sand.

****

The leader of the Med-jai tribe greeted them solemnly. He was old enough to be Ardeth's grandfather, and he was stiff on his feet when he dismounted and offered his horse to his leader.

Ardeth accepted gratefully, touching the old man's shoulder in thanks. He swung into the saddle and looked down at the others. "I must go," he said, "to my son. These men will take you safely back to the camp." He touched his heels to the horse's sides and it leaped forward into a smooth gallop.

He pushed the horse hard, stopping infrequently for water and rest. By nightfall the fires of his home were within sight, and he felt the first knife-like stab of pain in his chest. Never again would he return to this place and see Ranya standing apart from the others, waiting for him. Never again would his young daughter run out to meet him, shrieking with delight when he lifted her high over his head. 

For a wild moment, he let himself hope. Perhaps Allah would be merciful. Perhaps he had suffered enough.

When he heard the high-pitched, childish cry, his heart nearly stopped. Then he saw the figure running toward him and saw it was not his daughter, but his son.

"Aarif!" He threw himself from the horse's back before it had hardly begun to slow, and stumbled forward on foot the rest of the way.

His son was crying, small hands held out to him. Ardeth dropped to his knees and gathered Aarif close, feeling the heat of the little boy's body. "I'm here," he soothed. "It's all right."

Aarif wrapped his hands in Ardeth's robe. "I didn't know if you were coming back!" he sobbed.

The men and women of the camp were drawing near, looking shyly away from the reunion between their current ruler and their future leader, none of them wanting to be the first to leave completely. Ardeth glanced at them, saw young Alex O'Connell standing with them, and felt a rush of gratitude sweep through him. His wife and his daughter were gone, but his son was alive, right here in his arms.

"I see you've decided to talk to me again," he said gravely. "I'm very glad."

Aarif swiped at his face and nodded. His brown eyes were equally serious.

Ardeth stood up, carrying his son. "What made you change your mind?"

"Alex said he wouldn't tell me the story of the Scorpion King until I talked to him," the boy said. He did not sound put out at having been manipulated.

"Did he?" Ardeth mused. "You tell him that tonight he will hear a new story: how his uncle destroyed Ahm Shere for all eternity."

Aarif's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes." Ardeth set him down and the boy scampered off, black curls bouncing on his shoulders. He watched his son approach Alex O'Connell, gazing up at the older boy with worship.

Jamail al-Din, who had protected the camp during his absence, hailed him. "Is it done?"

Ardeth turned and faced the desert of Ahm Shere. "Yes," he said. "It is truly over."

****

Two days after the destruction of Ahm Shere, Jonathan walked alone along the Nile. Darkness had fallen an hour ago, and the heat of day was beginning to slide into the coolness of night.

They would leave in the morning. The Med-jai were loaning them horses and enough supplies to see them back to Cairo. Ardeth had instructed them to return the horses to the curator at the Museum of Antiquities, obviously enjoying Evelyn's slight discomfiture. "For as long as the museum has stood, the curator has been a Med-jai," Ardeth had said. "We do not all live in the desert."

Jonathan was both glad and sorry to be leaving.

The celebration had been muted, but it had been there. The Creature was at last destroyed, a threat that could not return. Ahm Shere was similarly destroyed, and the Med-jai believed that the only thing that remained of its golden evil was the half of the diamond Jonathan had brought with him out of the pyramid. 

Another person might have thought them heartless, to celebrate in the face of so much death. The warriors who had been lost in the oasis were not returned to life, for the diamond's power did not extend over death. Only those Med-jai who had been separated from the O'Connells during the fight with the pygmy mummies had survived, returning in ones and twos to the camp until they simply stopped coming and the rest were assumed dead.

But Jonathan, who was feted as a hero, did not think the Med-jai heartless. Rather, he saw their celebration as a way of escaping the hardship of their lives, even if only for one evening. He thought it very touching and more than once during the evening he had found himself on the brink of tears.

Ardeth, of course, downplayed his own role, and gave the credit to Jonathan. Rick and Evelyn, in the background for the first time in their lives, sat aside and smiled at him proudly. Alex gazed at his uncle with hero worship, and hung on his every word. Five-year old Aarif crawled onto his lap as his sister had once done and fell asleep.

And in the morning they would return to Cairo. 

He looked up as he heard approaching footfalls, and smiled to see Evy walking toward him. She had changed her Western clothes for the black gown the Med-jai women wore, and she looked beautiful, a true princess. No matter how old they got, Jonathan reflected, she would always be his baby sister.

"Are you all right out here by yourself?" she asked.

Jonathan nodded. "Oh, sure. I can take care of myself now, you know."

Evy was not amused. "Jonathan."

He relented. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. Sometimes it's hard to stop, is all."

"You did well, Jonathan." She stood with her arms folded across her chest, the skirt of her gown twining about her ankles in the night breeze. "You saved our lives."

He said nothing to this. Being praised for something he was not entirely sure he had earned was a new feeling for him.

"And I owe you an apology," Evy said, looking at him frankly. "I didn't think you could do it. I was angry with you for lying to us about keeping the diamond. I thought you were getting us into a terrible mess that we would never get out of."

"Oh, well, you can't be blamed for that." He tried not to let her words upset him. She was, after all, only speaking the truth, a truth he himself had long ago accepted. "But I've changed, Evy. I'm not going to be the old Jonathan anymore." He hesitated. "I don't think I _can_ be."

"Oh, Jonathan!" She swept him into an embrace. "I love you! I don't care if you save the world or not! I only want you to be safe and happy. That's all I care about."

He hugged her back. "Does this mean you're not going to throw me out of the house?"

"What? What on earth gave you that idea?" She dropped her arms and punched him lightly on the bicep. 

He shrugged. "Just checking."

Evy smiled, but her eyes were serious. "Are you coming back with me?"

He waved her ahead. "You go on. I'll just be a few more minutes."

She nodded and walked back to the camp.

He watched her go. He knew that when they got back to London, things would be different, subtly changed. He could not envision himself walking into a nightclub now, sitting down and drinking and playing cards for hours on end. He could not imagine why he had ever thought such things were fun.

He knew things now, things his old self had never dreamed of. He understood about destiny and fate, and how these things could get lost in the overwhelming rush of daily life. He understood, too, how a person's destiny couldn't be sought and found, like a chest of gold at the end of a treasure hunt. Destiny revealed itself only when it was ready, like firelight shining through a gem. You either saw it or you did not, and what you did with it was your choice.

"Jonathan."

"I was wondering how long I was going to have to stand out here like an idiot." He turned around and faced Ardeth. 

The Med-jai glanced away. "You should try to put a five-year old to bed sometime."

Jonathan nodded in comprehension. "I have, don't forget," he said.

Ardeth smiled faintly. "Alex." 

"He was quite a handful at that age," Jonathan said, chuckling to remember some of the pranks his nephew had pulled. "He still is, come to think of it."

"Twice now you have saved my life," Ardeth said. "I can think of no way to repay you. What can I give you?"

Jonathan shook his head, nonplussed. "I don't need anything." The only thing he had wanted was to redeem himself for his terrible failure in losing the diamond – and he had found his salvation. He had helped save Ardeth from succumbing to the darkness of hatred and revenge, and he had destroyed the diamond for all time. There was nothing that might equal the satisfaction of these achievements.

"I cannot allow you go away empty-handed." Ardeth held out a small bag. "Take this, a token of our gratitude and respect."

Curious, he tugged at the drawstring and peered inside. His breath caught when he saw the flash of gold, and the treasure within.

"They are from Hamunaptra," Ardeth said. "We have no use for them, but perhaps you can find one."

Jonathan clutched the bag close, thinking of the money the sale of the items would bring. More than enough. Once he would have thought only of the material possessions he could buy with the money, and the blissful hours spent wasted in a casino. Now he merely gazed into the desert night and thought about all the doors that were swinging open for him. He would be able to truly turn his back on gambling. He might even be able to buy his own house and move out. He could start his own life. It was not too late.

"I can't ever say enough how sorry I am," he started.

Ardeth held up his hand. "My friend. I know."

 _My friend._ Jonathan held his breath. 

"No one man is responsible for the things that happen in this world," Ardeth said slowly. "That is a lesson I am still learning, Jonathan. You are not to blame for what happened here."

"I could have brought them back," he protested in a strengthless whisper.

"It is better that you did not," Ardeth said. He turned to face the river. "Admittedly I cannot see much reason for it right now, but one day I will know it to be true, _insh'allah._ "

"And your son?"

"He will lead the Med-jai well," Ardeth said. "Although to be honest, I am not sure that there is much use for us now. Our task is done. The Creature can never be raised again. Ahm Shere is destroyed."

"The Book of the Dead is still out there," he pointed out.

"So it is. And so we shall watch over it." Ardeth turned to him. "As I shall watch over the diamond."

Jonathan nodded. "I guess this is it, then."

"What, you do not plan to come back to Egypt?"

He was surprised. "You mean I'm not banished?"

Ardeth smiled. "No, my friend. You are always welcome among the Med-jai." He touched Jonathan's shoulder and began walking back toward the camp, and the fires that burned in the darkness.

Jonathan went with his friend.

****

That night, Jonathan dreamed.

"Ours is a life of service," said Ardeth, "and commitment. You must think not of yourself but of that which you guard, and the people you protect. You must be prepared for anything, and be ready to do what you must to preserve what has been entrusted to you."

He nodded. "I can do that."

Images blurred past him. 

Rick's eyes widening in shock as he tried to push Evy aside and save his friend. Alex gazing up at him with awe and admiration at his uncle. The pain in Imhotep's voice as he keened his grief aloud and shook the entire pyramid with the force of that anguish. Evelyn hugging him, telling him that she loved him. 

He stood on the sands of Ahm Shere under a blazing hot sun. The world around him was blue and gold and white.

He looked around, and he saw them. They were walking toward him. 

As he watched, Rick and Evy walked across the globe, holding hands. In his free hand, Rick held the Scepter of Osiris, and the tattoo on his wrist was glowing with a lambent blue light. Evy's eyes were lined with black kohl and she held a crimson cushion with the Bracelet of Anubis resting atop its velvety fabric.

Ahead of them was Alex, skipping lightly in his youthful innocence. He was dressed in blue and gold and where he stepped on the globe, golden light shot forth from his footprints. He did not look back to see if his parents followed, but continued onward, confident and unafraid.

Behind them was Ardeth Bay, carrying the golden Book of Amun-Ra and the black Book of the Dead. He wore the dark blue and silver robes of the chieftain of the Med-jai, and his sword gleamed a brilliant argent. His gaze was for Rick and Evy and Alex, a silent presence behind them, a Med-jai, a protector of mankind, a warrior for God.

Jonathan looked down and realized he was holding the diamond of Ahm Shere in his hands. It was whole again, and the sunlight reflected off its many facets in a riot of light. The jewels in the asp heads twinkled in the sun and made the serpents appear to be smiling.

The procession across the desert stopped in front of him. Evy smiled. "Are you coming, Jonathan?"

"We can't wait all day," Alex sang out.

"Let's go, Jonathan," Rick said.

Ardeth said nothing, but looked at him with quiet respect.

Jonathan lifted his head high. "Yes," he said. "I'm coming with you." He began walking, falling in beside his sister, walking with them as they crossed the sands of the desert, walking across the world, a part of the world that had always been meant for him, he saw now.

It had just taken him until now to realize it.

*******

END


End file.
